Little Pleasures and Small Comforts
by Mrgamgeezy
Summary: Starting just after the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry and his friends have to try to move on with their lives, and move past their pain. It's been written before, and it'll be written again. Rated T in case of swearing and/or mild sexual themes. Though obviously not canon, all pairings and events will be as close to canon as possible. I do not own the HP universe or characters.
1. Chapter 1 - Immediate Aftermath

… _he turned away from the painted portraits, thinking now only of the four-poster bed lying waiting for him in Gryffindor Tower, and wondering whether Kreacher might bring him a sandwich there, "I've had enough trouble for a lifetime."_

* * *

"You can bloody well say that again, mate," Ron said with a snort.

Hermione gave him her classic, disbelieving look, and Harry started to giggle. In seconds, Harry was laughing uncontrollably. His friends gave him concerned looks, which just made him laugh harder, bordering on hysterics. He was pushed over the brink, and he was suddenly sobbing. He felt their arms wrap around him, and for an indeterminate amount of time they stood there, clinging to each other. When Harry lifted his head, he saw that his friends, too, were unashamedly wiping their eyes. His ears told him the portraits had begun to excitedly discuss the day's events, leaving them a modicum of privacy.

He gave them a weak smile, and cleared his throat, "Thanks..." He faltered, failing to find the appropriate words, but they both just squeezed him tighter. After a minute, in unspoken agreement they left the Headmaster's Study and descended the spiral staircase together. As they reached the bottom, Harry saw Ron take Hermione's hand in his, and pull her gently toward the Great Hall. Harry made no movie to follow, and Hermione held back.

"Coming, Harry?" she asked.

He shook his head, "No..." he said tiredly, looking for an excuse, but she simply nodded, and let Ron pull her away. Harry smiled at their departure, grateful that at least they, his friends, understood. He couldn't return to face the mourning and the heartache. Even worse were the admiration and the gratitude. How could they thank him while their loved ones lay among the fallen? But most of all, he was tired.

As he trudged toward Gryffindor Tower, the guilt welled up inside of him. There were more than fifty dead, and they'd all fought for him. Their faces seared their way into his mind. Tonks. Lupin. He thought about their son, Teddy, who would grow up without them. He clearly remembered the sadness in Remus' eyes down by the forest, despite his words. Colin, enthusiastic little Colin Creevey, too young to fight but too stubborn to leave. Why had he ever let Colin join Dumbledore's Army?

Fred. _Oh God, Fred! _Harry stopped in his tracks. He could feel his tears falling freely again, and he had to brace himself against the wall to keep from falling. His breath came in gasps, and he slid down to a sitting position, burying his face in his arms. He could picture the Weasleys, as before, sobbing over Fred's body, and once again he lacked the courage to stand with them. How could he face Arthur and Molly, who had their son ripped away from them in an instant? Or George, who lost the one person he couldn't imagine himself without? They'd seen their family finally reunited, and been forced straight back to grief.

And Ginny, beautiful Ginny. He almost hadn't been able to turn away from her on his way to face Voldemort. Ginny, crying in his arms in the Chamber of Secrets. Ginny, her eyes full of tears as he walked out of her bedroom. Ginny, in Hermione's arms as she mourned her lost brother. Ginny, eyes wide, as she narrowly dodged Bellatrix's curse. Ginny's voice, full of fear and pain as he lie still in Hagrid's arms. _Harry! HARRY!_

"Harry."

It was so quiet that for a moment he thought it still came from his memories. It was only as he came back to himself, and was again aware of his surroundings, that he realized it hadn't. He quickly pulled his shirtsleeve across his face, and looked up.

She was standing there, not ten feet away, eyes still-puffy eyes fixed on him. He pushed himself back up into a standing position, trying to hide the effort it took to stay upright. He failed, and she sucked in a breath. He dropped his gaze.

"Ginny, I..." he trailed off, unable to find the right words. He seemed to be doing that a lot in the past hour. He needed to explain how exhausted he was, and how he didn't want to go back to the Great Hall. He wanted to say how sorry he was, and how guilty he felt, both for Fred's death and for leaving her behind. But before he could say anything she was moving closer, and practically launched herself at him. It took a moment for him to process that she wasn't pummeling him, and instead had her arms around him, hugging him as tightly as she could.

"I thought you were dead," she said quietly, tears soaking into his filthy shirt. He didn't respond, but held her gently for a minute as she shook and stroked her back. He tried to think up a way to explain. He hardly noticed when she stopped crying and looked him in the face. He was still having trouble jump-starting his brain when she pulled away, and took his hand, leading him down the corridor. By the time he had finally formulated a protest it died in his throat. He realized she wasn't taking him back to her family, and they were climbing the staircase to the Gryffindor common room.

The Fat Lady was clearly very tipsy, and she and her friend Violet giggled as Harry and Ginny approached the painting. Harry squinted at her, and a thought forced it's way past his increasingly fuzzy thoughts. "We don't have the password," he said thickly, which just made the portrait's occupants giggle even more.

"What else could it be, dearie?" the Fat Lady slurred.

Harry was at a loss, but Ginny squeezed his hand and gave a small smile.

"Harry Potter Lives."

Harry blinked in surprise as the portrait swung outwards, admitting them into the plush common room. It was still deserted, which he should have expected, and he made toward one of the couches. However, Ginny's grip on his hand was firm, and he groaned in protest as she pulled him away toward the stairs to the dormitories. She shushed him, and they made their way up to the room that he had considered his first real home up until this year.

Once inside his old room he headed straight toward his four-poster bed, but once again was diverted by Ginny. He started to argue, and she shoved him into the showers. Once inside, she left him to peel off his clothes and clean up, and as the hot water pounded his sore muscles into submission, he had to admit he was glad she had insisted. He heard the _crack_ of a house elf's apparition, muffled by the door, and a quiet conversation between Ginny and Kreacher. He stayed under the hot spray for a long time, only shutting off the water for fear of falling asleep while standing. He dried himself lazily, and was still damp when he threw on the clean shirt and underwear Kreacher had brought for him.

Ginny was blushing when he emerged for some reason, but she guided him to his bed all the same. His bed looked so inviting that he would have veritably thrown himself into it had he the energy, but all he managed was a tired flop. Ginny pulled up the covers around him, and began fussing with his bedside table. She was still blushing, and he couldn't figure out why. He was pondering the mystery when his eyes began to drift closed, and he could have sworn he felt the soft brush of her lips just before sleep claimed him.

* * *

Harry woke groggily, and reluctantly. His sleep had been dreamless and peaceful – everything he could have wished for after nearly a year of running and fighting. Still, he could already sense it wasn't going to be enough. He wouldn't be awake long; He felt like he could sleep for the next year. As he opened his eyes he was greeted with the familiar sight of his closed curtains, and he pulled them slightly open.

His reached out his hand and found his glasses, and was surprised to see his invisibility cloak on his bedside table. He picked it up, and noticed the three wands and very recognizable scrap of parchment that had been hidden underneath. On the floor next to his bed was a pile of clean clothes, complete with a jumper. He silently thanked Kreacher for providing him with everything he needed, and thanked Ginny too.

_Ginny_. It all came back to him then. She'd taken care of him. She'd understood what he needed. She hadn't asked for an explanation, or at least, not yet. Those weren't the actions of a woman scorned, not even of an ex-girlfriend. He allowed himself a tiny bit of hope. Maybe it would be enough. But why had she been blushing?

He started to get out of bed and caught glimpse of himself in the mirror. Dumbstruck, his ears began to burn. _Because you were in only your pants, you prat!_ Flushing, he quietly stood and started dressing. In an attempt to forget his embarrassment, he looked around the room, and noticed he wasn't the only occupant. The other four beds seemed to house their usual occupants, though he could only really be sure of Seamus and Neville, who hadn't managed to close off their curtains all of the way. Seamus hadn't even changed his clothes, and his hair looked slightly crispy. Neville had at least managed to clean himself up as Harry had. Ron and Dean weren't visible.

Harry stared at Ron's bed a moment, and then did a double-take. _There were two wands on his bedside table!_ The spare was definitely Hermione's. His blush returned. A small smile on his face, he gathered up is own wands, threw the cloak over himself and snuck out of the room.

He carefully shut the door, and tiptoed his way into the common room. It was empty again, though it showed signs of having been inhabited. Someone had lit a fire and it had burned low, and there were the remains of some food on the tables. He had assumed some of the survivors would stay at Hogwarts, and figured the Weasleys, at least, had taken over the Gryffindor dormitories. He glanced out the window and realized it was now nighttime. He had slept through the entire day.

His stomach reminded him it had been well over a day since he had last eaten, and who knows how long since he'd had a proper meal. He found some sandwiches on the table with a note that said "For Harry" in Molly's neat script, and mentally added her to the list of people to eventually thank. He pocketed half a sandwich and wolfed down the other half, and quickly decided it was the best thing he had ever eaten. But thinking of Molly led him back to Fred, and the sandwich turned to ash in his mouth.

He chewed mechanically as he left through the portrait hole. He was too hungry to ignore it, though the rising guilt tried its best to ruin his appetite. He choked the food down as he prowled through the empty corridors. He pulled out the Marauder's Map, and activated it. He didn't appear to need his cloak, but as he continued onward he didn't remove it, just in case. Occasionally he passed some rubble or a torn painting. At one point he even had to skirt the grisly remains of an acromantula. What surprised him the most, however, were the bloodstains he found occasionally around the curse-marks; he had thought the Killing Curse was a Death Eater favourite, and was horrified to realize that many of the deaths wouldn't have been nearly as bloodless. These remnants of the earlier violence shook him thoroughly.

The corridors seemed to go on forever. Harry tried not to look, but by now each curse-made scar was telling him its story, coming all together to provide one massive memory of chaos, destruction, and death. He could hear his breathing speed up, his heart beating faster. In an attempt to blot out the impending panic, he focused on the Map, and on the one person in particular he needed to find. The sought after person appeared to still be awake.

As he encountered the Great Hall, he came to a stop. The map showed people inside, mostly Hogsmeade residents, though it was clearly nighttime. Despite his morbid thoughts, he peeked around the slightly open door.

His breathing slowed, and he calmed down. The occupants of the Great Hall had clearly been celebrating the victory. _Or mourning the fallen. At least it looks like most of __the students__ made it to a Common Room, _ he thought to himself. Regardless of their intent, among the discarded bottles of butterbeer and firewhiskey many of the Battle's survivors were strewn haphazardly about the place. Even as he watched, Harry saw House Elves start moving people to cots.

He tore his eyes from the Elves and the sleeping revelers, and checked the Map again. The scene reminded him to check an area of the school he'd been mentally avoiding: the Hospital Wing. Summoning his courage, he scanned the parchment. His first thought was that the names listed were blessedly few, though he guessed nearly every bed was full. His eyes caught on one name in particular. _Lavender Brown._

Harry remembered running past Lavender in the commotion. She had fallen from the second floor, at least 10 or 12 feet. He, Ron, and Hermione had barely had a chance to register the _crack_ of a breaking bone, when Grayback was upon her. Hermione blasted him off, and... _And he got hit with a Crystal Ball?_ It was a vague memory, and he couldn't be sure. He did know, with gut-churning certainty, that they hadn't stopped to help her. He desperately hoped she was alright. He didn't want another life on his conscience, and definitely not, well, a friend. It was a relief to remember the Map never showed the names of dead people. _At least she's alive._

He was glad to see he'd arrived at his destination. The gargoyle by the staircase had been straightened out, and looked much better. He pulled off his invisibility cloak and said hopefully, "Albus Dumbledore?" For the third time in the past 24 hours, he walked up the stairs to the Headmaster, _er, Headmistress'_ Study.

As he approached the top of the stairs he clearly heard one of the portraits say, "Harry Potter is here to see you, Minerva," but he didn't recognize the voice. He crossed the circular room and couldn't help but slump into an armchair. He felt exhausted once again, though he had only walked down a few corridors. After a moment, he looked up.

Minerva McGonagall, who had been staring with her usual impassivity, was smiling at him faintly. Harry had a brief memory of her heart-rending shout just before his final duel with Voldemort, and an even hazier recollection of her giving him a big hug after it was all over. Neither one of those memories seemed to suit the stately witch in front of him, and he was glad. The real McGonagall didn't hug or scream: she gave small smiles and ginger biscuits. It seemed the real McGonagall was back, mind-reading stare and all. He smiled at her ruefully.

"Hello Harry," a deep voice said.

It was a testament to his time on the run that Harry was standing on-guard, wand out before he was even conscious of his change in orientation. His brain caught up to his ears, and he peered around the Headmistress to see Kingsley Shacklebolt's head nestled in the flames of the fireplace. The Acting Minister chuckled. "I apologize for startling you, Harry. Though to be fair, the Acting Headmistress and I were in the middle of an important conversation," he said wryly.

Harry flushed and mumbled an apology.

"No matter, Harry. It is good to see you up and moving again," Kingsley continued.

"Mr. Potter seems to have something on his mind, Acting Minister," McGonagall interjected, "I think we should discuss it before Miss Weasley drags him back to the Gryffindor dormitories."

"Not a problem, Minerva. Would you mind terribly if I flooed over and joined the conversation, Harry? Minerva?"

Both Harry and Professor McGonagall nodded their acquiescence, and in seconds the flames turned bright green and seemed to part for the tall man, who appeared to be effortlessly in mid-stride. He shook hands with them both and took the available seat.

"What can we do for you, Mr. Potter?" said McGonagall simply.

Harry took a moment to collect his thoughts. He pulled the Elder Wand out and set it on the desk in front of all of them. They all stared at it for a minute, and Harry said quietly, "I'd like to give Professor Dumbledore his wand back, Professor."

Professor McGonagall hesitated only a moment before giving Harry a real smile. "I think that is an excellent idea. Albus filled me in earlier today," she said, indicating the portrait behind her.

"Is this really the Deathstick, Albus?" Kingsley said, stirring. He lifted his eyes to Dumbledore's, and they both seemed to consider the other. Harry tensed.

"It is my old wand, now Harry's wand, and from what I hear, the wand Tom Riddle tried to used to kill Harry again. This, as we know, resulted in his curse rebounding and his own death," Dumbledore's portrait said. Kingsley opened his mouth to speak, but Dumbledore cut him off. "I know, Kingsley. It is a powerful wand indeed, but enough people know about it now, and know who wields it. I do not want to further endanger Harry with a stray word."

"Of course, Albus," Kingsley said. The Acting Minister settled back in his chair, and Harry relaxed.

"Well, since that is settled," McGonagall spoke up, causing everyone to jump, "I think we should get on with it, then."

The trio nodded, and rose to leave.

* * *

Kingsley was the last to take his turn to put magical protections on the grave. Harry had replaced Dumbledore's wand and cast a few protective spells. McGonagall repaired the white marble of the tomb, and added a few subtle enchantments to Harry's work. Now Kingsley was proving to be an excellent addition by casting spells more directly aimed at preventing dark magic. When it was all said and done, and all three were satisfied, Harry found himself thinking, _I'd hate to be the dark wizard who tries to get through __**that**__. _

The other two moved away, but Harry was rooted where he was standing by the iridescent grave. The last time he had stood here, a year ago, he had been full of so many doubts and fears, an impossible journey had lain before him. _There's still so much that's uncertain_, he thought, _but this war is over. It's really over._ He felt a weight lift off his shoulders, as if he was finally free of the burden that had been hanging over him his whole life. Harry smiled, truly smiled for the first time in what seemed like years. Despite what may come, this was a job he was glad had ended.

"Goodbye, Professor Dumbledore."


	2. Chapter 2 - The Following Day

_Author's Note: Glad to see so many people have been enjoying my first chapter. Thank you for the encouraging reviews, and the follows. I don't want to make too many of these Notes as I go through this story, but I think it's fair to say you'll expect them occasionally._

_Mostly I wanted to give you fair warning: This chapter, and probably many of these early chapters, will contain a fair amount of crying. Hopefully, as the story progresses, it'll prove cathartic. My intention with this Fic is to express the emotional damage in a believable way, and work through it for the characters to form meaningful lives. As always, I do not own the Harry Potter universe or its characters, etc. etc._

* * *

They walked back to the castle in companionable silence. For Harry, it marked the end of a journey. He could not guess the others' thoughts. They had both always been inscrutable. He had trouble deciding with one was more stoic. _Perhaps we should have a contest_, he thought and chuckled.

"Knut for your thoughts, Mr. Potter?"

Pulled out of his reverie, Harry stopped. "Oh, er, nothing," he said lamely. He looked around a minute before following them back into the school. There was a moment, and then Harry spoke up again, "Professor?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"What did we do with Tom Riddle's body?"

The older two paused, and identical expressions of surprise briefly cross their faces.

"We removed it," Kingsley said finally, "Voldemort's body will be burnt, his ashes scattered across a large river. There will be no way to revive him, and no grave for any admirers to visit."

Harry nodded, taking in the information. "Letting Riddle fade into obscurity does seem like an appropriate form of Justice."

He looked back at the Entrance Hall, where the rest of the bodies lay. "And what about Snape?" he asked.

This time Professor McGonagall spoke, "We have made no arrangements for Severus Snape. In fact, we were waiting to ask you, Mr. Potter." Harry nodded as she seemed to pause and collect herself, before saying faintly, "Was he really still on our side?"

"He was acting on Professor Dumbledore's orders until the end, Professor," Harry said quietly. He took a quick breath before continuing. "Snape loved my mother, and had wanted to protect her. He killed Professor Dumbledore because the Professor was dying anyway, and to protect Draco Malfoy," his voice faded to a near-whisper, "And he was killed maintaining his facade, so that Riddle thought the Elder Wand was his."

Professor McGonagall looked to Kingsley, then back at Harry, and let out a surprisingly large sigh. "Well then, Mr. Potter, he should be buried with dignity."

Harry nodded gratefully, and the rest of the walk was spent in contemplative silence. At the staircase to the Headmistress' office he shook both of their hands, and they let him leave without further discussion.

He stifled a yawn as he approached the Fat Lady's portrait. It took him a minute to wake her up, and even then she only half-opened an eye and said, "Oh, it's you," before swinging open to admit him without a password. He could hear her resuming her snoring as soon as the portrait hole closed.

Harry was still feeling peaceful from his visit to Professor Dumbledore's grave, and had neither worn his cloak nor checked the Marauder's Map on his return trip. This became very apparent to him when he heard someone stirring on the nearest sofa. He spun on his heel, wand raised again, and with a hoarse whisper said "_Lumos_!"

The narrow beam of light from his wand illuminated some startlingly red hair, and Harry tried to get a better look at the sofa's occupant, who was squinting at him.

"Ha-Harry?"

"Ginny?"

"Will you put that light away?"

"Yeah, sorry. _Nox_."

"Thank you," she said sleepily. And then her eyes shot open.

"Harry!" she hissed at him, "Where have you been? I've been worried sick!"

"I, uh, what?"

"You were gone!" She left her seat on the sofa and advanced on him, still speaking in a harsh whisper. "Where were you?"

"Ginny, I just went to see Professor McGonagall," he said, backed up on his heels, "You know, about Dumbledore's wand, and... and about Snape."

Ginny seemed to deflate. "Oh..." she said in a small voice, and looked down.

There was a moment where they just stared at each other in the half-light. Then Ginny looked up, and he could see tears in her eyes.

"I... I was just worried," she said, "I've been checking on you every few hours... and all of the sudden you just disappeared from your bed."

"Well, I..." He trailed off, and then his brain caught up again, "You – you've been doing what? Why?" He said sharply.

Ginny glared at him and let out a puff of breath. He had the feeling that, had everyone not been asleep, she would have exploded on him.

"WHY?" She hissed, barely managing to keep her volume down, "Oh, I don't know, Harry! Maybe because of your tendency to go off on your own, and leave mm– us thinking you're dead!"

Harry was dumbstruck. Ginny was nearly furious, and she looked like she either wanted to strangle him or start crying again. He'd only seen her like this a handful of times, and never directed at him. Worse, he could hear the hurt in her voice, and the sense of betrayal. That tiny bit of hope he'd felt was fighting desperately to keep from being extinguished, but it felt like he was trying to keep a candle in a hurricane.

They stood there again, tense and staring, and it finally clicked that she was waiting for him to respond. Unfortunately he was still having trouble organizing his thoughts, and he was staring at her feet. They were bare, and he noticed for the first time that she was in her dressing gown.

"Look, Gin... I didn't... I'm so– er..." His thoughts were too jumbled, and he took a deep breath before trying again. "I just– what I mean was you shouldn't be checking on me – not that I mind you checking but... but you should be resting. We should both be resting, okay?"

There was silence, and then–

"Yeah."

Harry let out a sigh, and unconsciously moved to hug her, but then paused, catching himself. _I'm still not sure how she feels._ He swore, for a second, she had moved to return his embrace, but in the half-light he couldn't be sure. She could have just as easily been pulling away. He slumped his shoulders and moved toward the dormitories.

He had just started up the stairs when he heard her at the bottom. "Harry?" She sounded small, and scared.

"Yeah, Gin?"

"I... I was resting, but I couldn... I just woke up, okay? I wasn't gonna–"

"It's okay, Ginny. I know."

"Okay," She hesitated, "G-Good night..."

_I love you. _"Good night, Ginny."

He turned to climb the stairs, and heard her do the same across the landing. He thought he heard her start to sniffle again, and tried to move his tired legs faster. He knew he wouldn't be able to stop himself from rushing back to her if he heard her crying again.

He'd removed his glasses and sat down on his bed, and before he knew it it was asleep.

* * *

_This time there were dreams. Dark, jumbled, unpleasant dreams. Dreams full of victorious high laughter and flashes of green light. Dreams of Ginny. Ginny crying, Ginny running, Ginny screaming. The two of them, backed into a corner. Ginny looking at him before the inevitable curse, her eyes full of tears. "Budge up," she said._

Harry awoke to the sounds of muffled sobbing.

It took him a moment to orient himself. There was early morning light streaming through a small crack in his four-poster's curtains. Everything was blurry, but that was normal, and he could tell he'd slept in his clothes from how they stuck to his skin. There was also an unusual, if not uncomfortable, weight on his right side. He took a deep breath through his nose, and he was assaulted by a familiar fragrance. _Oh, it's just Ginny, _he thought groggily.

_GINNY?_

He lifted his head as far as he could, trying not to disturb the mound of red hair falling all across his shoulder. When he had confirmed that this was indeed Ginny, he started replaying their meeting last night in his memories. There was her scolding him, and her crying, but he was almost sure he went to bed alone.

"Gin?" he whispered. He nudged her.

"Mmmwazza–Harry?" The mound lifted, but it mostly covered her face. In another situation it would have been almost funny.

"Why are you here?"

She stared at him and blinked slowly. "Couldn't sleep," she said, and plopped her head back down on his pillow like the subject needed no further explanation. Her breathing leveled off shortly and it was clear she was back asleep. He stared at her in disbelief.

Harry was yanked back down to Earth when the sobbing grew louder. He knew it certainly wasn't coming from his bed, so he tried to pinpoint which one of his dorm-mates was so distraught. His thoughts were still fuzzy, but with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach he was able to take a pretty good guess.

Ron.

The noise was so unfamiliar, which made it all the more heartbreaking. Harry's first instinct was to help, and he started to get up, but hesitated. He wasn't particularly good at this sort of thing. _Unless you're asked for, do me a favor and ignore it._ That'd been dorm code for the past seven years, ever since Neville got over his homesickness in the first term. If it'd been Ginny or Hermione he'd know what to do, but even they weren't very weepy girls, for which he was grateful. He continued to try to get up without waking anyone.

He'd just finished extracting himself from Ginny when he saw a hand, definitely not Ron's, emerge from the closed curtains and grope around for its corresponding wand. It retreated as suddenly as it came, and the noise was very abruptly cut off in the trademark manner of a silencing spell. He let out a sigh, more than a little relieved, for which he immediately felt guilty. Hermione seemed to be helping a lot more than he felt he would have. _But then, none of this is her fault, either._

Harry grabbed his wand and started to pocket it, but encountered a strange resistance. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a mess of bread, corned beef, and mustard. He winced, and dropped the unappetizing mess in the bin. He didn't spy any new clothes, and it seemed he had no choice but to simply clean out his pocket as best he could.

At this point he realized he was just standing in the middle of his old dormitory, and took a moment to look around. Dean, Seamus and Neville were all gone, or at least their beds were now empty. He was glad, as he didn't feel like speaking with anyone. Feeling rather like a coward, he nervously crept down to the common room.

It was empty, and which prompted another sigh of relief. He plopped down on his favorite sofa in front of the fireplace and tried to think.

What was the problem? _Well, I can think of more than 50 problems right now. And they're lying in the Entrance Hall._

True, but he beat Voldemort. They won. _Really? Fred, Colin, Tonks, Lupin. This doesn't feel like winning._

Did he really think that victory would come without a price? _The price was too high_, he thought stubbornly, but he didn't really think there was a right answer.

He just sat for a moment. What other problems did he have?

_Ginny._

Did he love her? _Of course I love her. But what am I supposed to say? "Hey Ginny, I know I left you and now your brother is dead, but I almost died and could really use a good snogging."_ He chuckled grimly, despite himself.

But why did she come to him last night? Why was she waiting for him to return to Gryffindor Tower? His insides squirmed as he remembered her anger, and how he hadn't actually apologized to her. _Just another reason to beg for her forgiveness, _he thought. But would she actually forgive him? Could she?

He felt his heart racing and knew he needed to calm down. It wouldn't help anything if he worried himself sick. He thought about everyone likely down in the Great Hall, and how they would react. He briefly pictured himself being pushed into the Hospital Room, and fretted over for no good reason. Yesterday it had felt like he couldn't move two steps without being watched. They hadn't given him any time for himself until Luna helped him sneak away. She'd understood without being asked. Just like Ron and Hermione had. Just like Ginny had.

All of the sudden the guilt was back. How could he be so selfish? These people had suffered huge losses, and they had fought, for him. So why did he so badly want them to leave him alone, let him figure out what's next? Then it hit him.

_I never actually thought about what would come next._

He'd spent this entire year on the run, his whole life as a marked man. Knowingly or unknowingly, he'd pushed his hopes and dreams to the side as he shouldered his burden. How could he have built up hope for a future that might never come, just to have it come crashing down? Looking back, he'd had a shadow hanging over him at every moment, even the happy ones. Those weeks with Ginny last year had been some of the happiest in his life, but he'd known he was living on borrowed time. Could he ever believe he wasn't just stealing someone else's happiness? It didn't seem possible he could simply live for himself.

He was still staring blankly at the empty fireplace when he registered someone was coming down the stairs from the boy's dormitory.

"Harry?" Hermione said softly.

He didn't say anything, and she took a breath and approached his sofa. "Ron is sleeping again, and I heard you leaving. Are..." She trailed off. He still didn't reply. He wasn't sure what to say.

"Can I join you?" He nodded tiredly, but didn't respond otherwise. She quickly sat down next to him, leaning over to put her head on his shoulder.

They sat in silence for a while, and Harry once again tried to find the right words. He wanted to explain how relieved he was that his two best friends survived, that they didn't have to pay an even higher price than what they had already so willingly given. Every time he tried to say something, however, he could only think _I'm glad it wasn't you,_ and the shame would come rushing back.

After finally settling on something that he figured didn't sound awful, Harry decided to give a try. "Hermione?"

"Mm?" She seemed to have been equally deep in thought.

Before he could continue, Ron started yelling.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN HERE?"

Harry and Hermione both leapt to their feet, eyes wide. Ron was nowhere in sight. They looked at each other, confused.

"I SAID WHAT ARE _YOU_ DOING IN HERE?" There was an indistinct response.

Understanding passed between the two simultaneously. They ran to the stairs, Hermione just barely in the lead. As Harry passed through the doorway, he tried to take in the scene quickly.

Ron was standing, half-dressed, red-faced and eyes swollen. He was screaming down at Ginny, who had just managed to gain her footing and respond in earnest. After hours of near-silence, a full-on Weasley shouting match was hurting Harry's ears.

"AND I SAID I COULDN'T SLEEP, YOU BERK!" Ginny's eyes were shining, and her voice sounded hoarse, though it was clear she'd only just matched her brother for volume. Ron hesitated a moment.

"Tha–That's not– WHY WERE YOU IN HARRY'S BED?" He didn't seem to be sure why he was angry, but he clearly didn't want to lose any steam. Unfortunately for him, Hermione had other ideas.

"RONALD THAT'S ENOUGH!" Hermione exploded, and everyone flinched. The color drained from both Weasley's faces, and there was a brief, deafening silence.

Ginny broke it. "I was having n-nightmares," she breathed, and Ron tore his face from Hermione's fury.

Surprisingly, it was Ron that broke down first. "Bloody hell Gin, I'm sorry..." There were tears pouring down his face, and his knees started to give way. Ginny quickly grabbed him in a hug. Tall, lanky Ron crying on Ginny's comparatively tiny shoulder should have been funny, but Harry thought it was probably one of the saddest things he'd ever seen.

Hermione joined them, wrapping her arms around the two redheads, but Harry didn't move. She gave him a wide-eyed look and jerked her head as if to say, _"Get over here!" _But before Harry could act they heard Molly's voice from downstairs.

"Ron? Ginny? Hermione? H-Harry?" To Harry, it was impossible not to notice her hesitation, and he inwardly flinched.

"W-We're h-here Mum!" Ron responded wetly. They gave him a moment to wipe his face, and they headed back downstairs. Harry wanted to stay put, but he settled for trying to hide in the back and stare at his feet.

"There you all are," Molly said as they shuffled into the room. She sounded so relieved that Harry looked up at her, despite his fears. The result was shocking. He'd never seen Molly Weasley look so, well, _disheveled_. Her motherly presence was dimmed by the bags under her eyes and her unkempt hair. She looked ready to break down crying at any moment. Understandably, she looked like she'd had the worst night of her life, and he felt nauseous just trying to look her in the face.

Arthur, Bill, Charlie and Percy were similarly bedraggled, and a couple of the men seemed to be nursing minor injuries. Even Fleur looked rumpled, which was a unique sight in itself. And George...

Harry found George was the worst. He was entirely in disarray, and wore the same shell-shocked face they'd seen on victims in St. Mungo's Spell Damage Ward. He looked so lost that you could mistake him for having been obliviated, except you couldn't possibly think his expression held anything close to forgetfulness. There was only pain. Harry quickly looked away, the bile rising in his throat.

Molly looked at the four of them, though he was sure she avoided looking him in the eye. "We've just been downstairs," she said shakily, "and they're... they're moving..." She burst into tears.

Arthur pulled her into his arms. "They're moving Fred's... Fred, after breakfast," he was also having trouble saying the word 'body.' "We're planning on going home when they do." He finished quietly, and it seemed to have taken him a lot of effort. The Ron and Ginny were nodding.

"Can I come with you?" rushed Hermione. Everyone looked at her. "It's just– Until I get my parents back from Australia... and I assume the funerals will be happening soon..." She took a breath, "It can't hurt to leave them a few more days."

"Of course you can, Hermione," Arthur said, trying to give her a smile. Molly was nodding.

Harry's eyes were on the ground, but he was speaking before he could stop himself. "I guess... I guess I'll stay and help clean up... or maybe go to Grimmauld Place." He finished lamely. There was silence.

He looked up again, and found they were all staring at him, dumbfounded.

Ron found his voice first. "What do you mean, mate? Why wouldn't you come to the Burrow?"

"W-Would you even want me?" They were even more in shock, so Harry forced himself to continue. "I mean, with Fred... And Ginny yelled... And the yelling this morning..." His throat was constricting, and he was having trouble getting the words out. No one spoke, and he was certain he'd been right.

"Of course we want you, you prat."

Harry looked up, startled. George was on his feet, and it was the first thing he'd said during the whole conversation. From the looks on everyone's faces it was the first thing he'd said all day.

"It's not your fault, alright? Blimey, I knew you'd take it like this! It's not your fault he died!" George was shouting now, tears pouring down his face, " You idiot! You absolute, bloody idiot!" His voice cracked, and Charlie and Percy pulled him back down onto the sofa, where he buried himself in Percy's shoulder, his stream of swearing quickly becoming a steady weeping.

"Harry," Hermione said carefully, touching his arm. Harry, who like everyone else had been watching George, jumped. "I think... I think we forget, sometimes. And it's because you're so, well, _you," _she took a deep breath. "You're so much more whole than you've a right to be, and you've done so much..." She looked down, but continued on quietly, "And you didn't grow up with people who yelled because they cared, and we forget that. And I think you forget how much we care about you."

Harry didn't know what to say. Before he could respond Molly had pulled him into a tight hug, and Ginny and Hermione had joined them. He looked uncertainly into Arthur's eyes, who said, "None of us blame you, son."

The room went blurry, and then he was crying. Crying for Fred, and for the Weasleys, and for the horrible losses they had all suffered in the past two days. He cried for his parents, and for Sirius, and Dobby, and Hedwig. He cried for them all.

He also cried for himself, for the months and _years_ of anguish, for the life he could have had. With every gasping breath he could smell the women holding him. With every shiver he could feel their arms wrapping around him tighter. With every tear he shed, he could feel the weight on his shoulders lifting.

* * *

_Author's Note: So yeah, sorry about all that. Truth be told I did a bit of my own crying as I wrote it. I had to take a few breaks. Be sure to get yourself some chocolate if you need it._

_I did a lot of thinking about this chapter, and I feel the need to explain one major point: I firmly believe the tension Harry would feel toward the Weasleys (his fear they blame him for Fred's death) would build and be addressed very soon after the end of the battle. A lot of fics I've read drag this out, and while I will allow that Harry will probably continue to blame himself (I mean, he's Harry Potter), it was important to me that he hear their forgiveness early on. It would be inexcusable for his adoptive family to ignore the possibility that he feels he is to blame: He's done it with nearly every major death and misfortune for the past seven years._

_Anyway, I don't wish to rant, and there'll still be plenty of angst ahead. Thanks again for reading._


	3. Chapter 3 - Return to the Burrow

_Author's Note: This chapter is a little shorter, but I couldn't see it going past the stopping point I chose. Thank you for all the encouragement I've received, and I apologize for the delay between chapters. I wasn't as sure what I wanted to happen in this chapter, and real life happened, blah blah blah. On another note, I apologize for any spelling errors or inconsistency between English and U.S. spellings. I try to use the U.K. spellings but occasionally an autocorrect will turn them into U.S. spellings, depending on where I am writing._

_As always, when it comes to Harry Potter, I own nothing._

* * *

Harry pushed the eggs and bacon around his plate absently, letting his mind wander. For the past hour or more, ever since they had left Gryffindor tower, he'd been unable to focus. He knew he needed to eat, but the normally decadent Hogwarts food seemed to be bland and unappetizing. He halfheartedly stabbed at some bacon, and his thoughts turned back to what had happened in the common room.

_The next few minutes had been, well, awkward. Harry did not know how long he had wept on Molly's shoulder. He'd never been very comfortable being the center of attention, especially when it involved putting his emotions on display. Growing up, he'd learned to cry quietly, hidden away from the Dursleys. He'd held on to Molly until his sniffling subsided, dreading the sight of a room full of sympathetic Weasley faces. _The dementors making me faint in third year was bad enough,_ he had thought before lifting his head._

_To his immense relief only Molly had still been looking at him. Arthur, Bill and Fleur were speaking to each other softly, affording him a measure of privacy. Charlie and Percy were murmuring to George, who had returned to his state of grief-filled apathy alarmingly quickly. Hermione had retreated to Ron's gangly embrace, leaving Harry in the Weasley women's capable hands._

"_Yes, well!" Molly had said with false cheer, still patting Harry's shoulder, "We all need to head downstairs for breakfast as soon as everyone is dressed." She then looked at her youngest son pointedly._

_Almost on cue, Ron looked down and seemed to notice for the first time that he was clad only in his pyjama bottoms. He had released Hermione as if burned, a horrified expression on his face. His eyes flickered between her and his mother as he backed away."I'll just- I'll," Ron stammered, and he'd flushed as red as his hair before turning tail and fleeing up the staircase to the boy's dormitories._

_Someone snickered, and the common room exploded with laughter. Charlie, Percy, and George were falling over themselves on the sofa, and Bill was holding onto Arthur and Fleur in an attempt to keep his feet. Harry could feel Ginny leaning on him as well, though he wasn't sure who was supporting who. Even Molly seemed to have trouble containing her mirth. Hermione, for her part, was blushing scarlet, giggling despite her best efforts._

_Molly was the first to regain her composure, and she pushed Ginny off to change as well. It wasn't until she had let go that Harry realised she had been clinging to his arm the entire time. He watched her retreating form remorsefully until he remembered he was surrounded by her parents and brothers. Bill in particular seemed to have noticed the trajectory of his gaze. The awkward silence had lasted until the two youngest redheads had returned and the family had departed through the portrait hole._

Not for the first time since breakfast had begun, Harry shook himself in an attempt to return to the present. Giving the meal up as a lost cause, he set down his fork and looked around the room. The cots and their occupants had been removed at some point earlier that morning, and the four long tables were once again the focal point of the Hall. As before, people were sitting at each table with little regard for the traditional housing arrangements. The House banners and tapestries were absent, and the curse-marks and spell residue had been scrubbed away. Over all, the Great Hall felt bare, and a little too clean.

_Probably good they removed the banners,_ Harry mused. _Doubt anyone would want to sit at the Slytherin table._

In this moment of clarity Harry looked around the room for the Malfoys, who were nowhere to be seen. He could not have missed their trademark blond hair, it was almost as recognizable as the Weasley red. It was no surprise to him that the Malfoys had left. No one had seemed to object to their presence right after the battle, but with so many in mourning it likely would not have been long before someone made a scene.

As he continued to look around he noticed Neville was, once again, surrounded by a pocket of admirers. He looked more than a little uncomfortable, and Harry couldn't blame him. His grandmother, on the other hand, sat next to him smugly as girls fawned over him and vied for his attention. She had his arm in what appeared to be a vice-like grip, and Harry found himself wondering if Neville had likewise been avoiding the crowd.

Harry's mood darkened as he remembered his entrance into the Great Hall. There had been a moment of surprised murmuring before the diners had burst into applause, and he had tried to duck behind Ron as they made their way to the nearest table. To his extreme discomfort, a number of people had swarmed the table asking questions and giving thanks, until Bill had yelled, "Back off, you nutters!" They'd taken one look at the scars on his face and blanched, giving the family some room. Harry had muttered his thanks and the Weasley family had unanimously occupied all the seats around him, like some sort of bizarre honour guard.

Harry's well-being secured, the family resumed their dispirited silence. No one seemed intent on eating breakfast, and any half-hearted attempts at conversation died on the speaker's lips. Fleur leaned on Bill's shoulder, and Ron and Hermione clasped hands under the table. George had again returned to his near-catatonic state, and Percy seemed to be studiously cutting his eggs into smaller and smaller pieces. Arthur had wrapped his arms around Molly, who was just staring morosely. Ginny had sat next to Harry, but she was leaning on Charlie as he held his head in his hands. The gap between Harry and the little redhead beside him felt like a great chasm, and seemed to pull at his guilt and his fear. His shoulders slumped and his hopeful little candle struggled to stay lit.

Ginny had not resumed her tight hold on Harry's arm when she returned from her dormitory. Dejectedly, he had followed Arthur out of Gryffindor Tower and down the staircase. On their way through the castle he had felt her, never more than a few steps away, and once or twice he had thought she would reach for his hand but she never had. He had been so distracted by tracking her movements that he had failed to notice whether the bloodstains and scorch marks had been removed form the corridors.

She seemed set on torturing him with her presence, and while Harry knew it wasn't a rational thought he couldn't find a way to dispel it. After the battle, the night before in the common room, this morning in his bed; she seemed to always just be _there. _It was as if he would only have to turn his head to find her watching him with that expression on her face that never failed to make his insides squirm – a mixture of hurt, wariness, and... anticipation? He wanted so badly to pull her into his arms, to tell her how much he had missed her, how much he still missed her, and to never let her go. His heart ached as he thought of the previous summer, and he knew that, if left up to him, she would be an integral part of his future. But he had hurt her too many times. He'd left her behind, both physically and emotionally. He'd let her think he was dead. He was responsible for Fred's death, no matter what Arthur had said. There was no way she could forgive him, and any thoughts of reaching out to her were dismissed before he could even try.

_The Hero of Hogwarts, they call me,_ Harry sneered at himself, _The Chosen One. None of it matters. I can't even begin to defend myself. Why should she be any different?_

Harry's self-loathing was interrupted by McGonagall's call for silence from the Head table. Harry noticed for the first time that Kingsley was sitting next to her. _I thought he was at the ministry? Did he stay overnight? Has he even slept since the battle?_

"Acting Minister Shacklebolt has some announcements to make." the professor said, and there was a scattering of applause before the deep-voiced man spoke.

"Thank you all for your attention," he began, eyes scanning the crowd. "Friends, comrades, families: It has been a rough few days for us all. Those of you here before me and those who are not, they are warriors and heroes – one and the same. Not one of those who defended our cause in the battle is anything less." He paused for few seconds, as if to collect his thoughts. Molly sobbed quietly into Arthur's shoulder and hers was not the only grief to be heard. At the next table Harry saw little Dennis Creevey weeping on his father's shoulder. "We lost a great deal here, and we will not let the sacrifices of our friends and loved ones be forgotten. Tomorrow at noon we will hold a memorial service out on the school grounds, and there we will dedicate a monument to the fallen. I hope you all will join me in remembering those brave souls who gave their lives to see Lord Voldemort's terror ended."

There was another pause, and the only sounds Harry could hear were the echoes of sorrow throughout the Hall. His heart sank into his stomach, and he was grateful when Kingsley continued speaking. "I am pleased to announce, as much lighter news, that the Ministry has issued two statements. First, we will be recognizing pivotal members of the Hogwarts defenders in an awards ceremony at a later date." There was some subdued applause, and many, like Harry, immediately glossed this over as an unimportant triviality. "Secondly, and more importantly, I am happy to announce that the house elves will be joined by a reconstruction team in the effort to restore this beloved institution. With that, I can happily say that I expect Hogwarts to be reopened for the coming school year in September, and the Board of Governors has named Minerva McGonagall as Headmistress."

Kingsley's last announcement was met with a much more enthusiastic applause, and as he clapped Harry felt his heart lift. Based on everyone's reaction, he wasn't alone in wondering if the damage to the school would postpone the coming term. He'd been worried the shadow of Voldemort's attack would linger in a number of ways. With Kingsley's proclamation, the world seemed to be a little brighter and people seemed to breathe more easily. Hogwarts' reopening would help the everything seem that much better. The applause faded and the people's chatter reached an almost-normal volume.

His speech over, Kingsley was shaking hands with McGonagall and the other professors seated at the table. However, instead of leaving the Great Hall Kingsley veered toward where Harry and the Weasleys were sitting. The Acting-Minister approached Harry directly and gave him a quick smile, saying, "Good to see you Harry. I'm glad you made it downstairs in the light of day. May I bother you a moment?"

Harry looked around at the Weasleys before responding, "Yeah, but you can say whatever you need to here." Kingsley hesitated a moment, but nodded.

"Indeed, and the more pressing issues do concern all of you," he said. "As part of the memorial service we are inviting the family of the departed to inscribe the person's name on the monument. We were wondering–"

"Can I do Fred's?"

Molly gasped, and as one they all turned to look at George. "I just... I want want him to..." George choked out.

"Of course you can, son," Arthur said gently, "and we'll all be up there with you." The rest of the family quickly agreed. George nodded, his face grim, and Molly bustled over to wrap him in a hug.

After a moment, Harry spoke up, "Kingsley, what were you going to ask?"

Kingsley shook himself from the scene and said, "Andromeda Tonks came earlier to collect Remus and Nymphadora. I asked her and she agreed to carve her daughter's name, but she offered that you might like to carve Remus'."

Harry was speechless, and his surprise mingled with unshed tears. After a few seconds he managed, "Oh! Of course I will. I'd be honoured..." He let out a big sigh of relief, and they all stared at him. "For a second I thought..."

"What?"

He barked out a dark laugh, "I couldn't figure out why you came to ask me. For a second I was afraid you wanted to put my name," He admitted, "but I don't think I really count." His weak joke got a small smile out of Kingsley, but Ginny grimaced at him. "Sorry," he said to the table in general, and he immediately felt awful again.

Kingsley gave them a nod and headed out of the Hall, undoubtedly on his way to more Ministry business. Harry watched him go, and thought to himself that the bags under the man's eyes proved he hadn't had much time to rest in the past few days.

It was shortly clear that no one had any intention of eating more breakfast, and Arthur left briefly to confirm the plan to move Fred's corpse with a ministry official. Before long they were back in Gryffindor Tower, where McGonagall had opened a Floo connection to the Burrow. Realizing that not one of them had any belongings to collect, they took turns stepping into the fire.

* * *

The Weasleys' mood at the Burrow was, in its own way, worse than the family's mood had been at Hogwarts. Surrounded by other survivors, other families, and ministry officials n the chambers and corridors of the school, they had hidden their grief away and reserved it for more private moments. At the Burrow, the silence was deafening, and their sorrow was much more personal. Even for Harry, it was impossible to look around the house without imagining Fred. For the Weasleys themselves it was a whole new brand of heartbreak.

George had retreated up to his room as soon as he exited the fireplace. His weeping could be heard until Charlie went up to check on him and sympathetically placed a silencing charm on the door. Molly had immediately began puttering about the kitchen distractedly, and she was followed by Fleur, Hermione and Ginny who were trying to help. Arthur and the rest of the boys filed into the living room and simply sat there, unable to break the silence. Only a few moments later Fleur and Hermione joined them, having been resolutely shooed away. After a while Ginny came in bearing tea and biscuits, and served nearly everyone when there was a crash of silver and china.

Molly had just entered the room when she dropped her tray. She stood stock-still, eyes fixated on one point. Fleur jumped up to clean the mess, and Arthur moved to his wife. "What's wrong, dear?"

Molly seemed unable to answer. Arthur shook her gently, but she did not respond. It was Ginny who first followed her gaze trying to figure out what had put her in such a state. She paled.

"The–The clock!" she gasped.

"What? What is it?" Ron said, moving to stand beside her.

Ginny swallowed fearfully, struggling to speak. Her response was nearly a whisper. "Look at Fred's hand."

Molly collapsed in her husband's arms. Arthur's knees buckled, the two of them lowered to the floor, weeping in each others' arms. Percy joined them, sobbing unashamedly. Ron sat down hard and covered his face with his hands, Hermione was rubbing his back. Fleur had wrapped her arms around her husband.

Harry had moved next to Ginny and she reached out to grab his hand tightly, fighting a flood of tears. He pushed the fearful, doubting voice to the back of his mind and pulled her into a tight hug before he could convince himself otherwise. She quickly buried herself in his shoulder.

He lifted his gaze slowly, fearfully, trying to brace himself for the pain and the guilt. When he found the clock face, it took every bit of strength he could muster to manage to stay upright. Of the nine silver hands on the family clock, eight of them were pointing to "Home."

Fred's was the sole exception. His hand pointed to "Lost."

* * *

_Author's Note: Sorry about the sadness. There's still going to be a lot of it to come. Hope you're keeping chocolate on hand._


	4. Chapter 4 - Dusk and Dawn

_Harry walked aimlessly around a dreary landscape. The path was mostly dirt, with a few scraggly tufts of grass sporadically distributed around him. He could see for perhaps 25 feet, but everything beyond was covered by a thick fog. He was clad in an over-sized t-shirt and jeans that reminded him of Dudley's old cast-offs. They were thin, and did absolutely nothing to keep off the cold. He shivered as he walked, and while he wasn't sure where he was going, it was better than standing still. At least by walking he had something to do._

_**Do you hear them, Harry Potter?**_

_He spun on his heel. The voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, and nowhere at all. His stomach lurched with dread. The voice was horribly familiar, and his skin crawled when the all-too-familiar voice spoke again._

_**Do you hear them calling, Harry? Do you know who they are calling for?**_

_Whispers started to reach his ears, full of pain and malice. There were faint screams on the edge of his consciousness, like half-forgotten horrors. He gave up trying to locate the speaker, and started walking again as if hoping to outrun their words._

_**Who else could they be calling for, Harry? Who else is there?**_

_He hunched his shoulders and sped up, almost breaking into an all-out panicked run. But somehow he knew it wouldn't help to run._

_**WHO ELSE TO BLAME BUT YOU?**_

_A shape appeared out of the mist, and before Harry knew it he was trying not to run into the small form. He took a second look and his stomach lurched again. The figure was a small, mousy blond boy. The young man's face was a rictus of pain, his eyes were wide. He stood there like a statue, gaze fixed on Harry. It was Colin._

_**Oh, he worshipped you, Harry. The great Harry Potter, he would have followed you anywhere. He did, in fact, and where did you lead him?**_

_Harry turned and ran away desperately. He could no longer keep himself in check. He had nearly bowled into another figure before he even registered its appearance. Even as he tried to back away, he was rooted to the spot. He took in the manic smile, the panicked eyes, the flame-red hair. Fred._

_**The prankster, eh? The joker, the jester. Such faith he had in you, Harry. Such trust, from the first time you met on the train. And after all of that, after all his family did for you, what did you give them Harry?**_

_The mist dropped back, and next to Fred stood Colin. As the veil continued to retreat, it revealed more faces, more figures, more accusations. Tonks. Lupin. Lavender. Sirius. The fog revealed more and more people, until hundreds of figures stood in front of him. He realised many were Muggles, and they were all people who he had failed to save. They had all died for him._

_**Why did you sacrifice them, Harry? Why did you let them die?**_

_Now Harry was running, sprinting, doing his best to get away from the accusing stares of his victims. He ran as hard as he could, but each time he looked over his shoulder he was no further away. Suddenly, the mist coalesced in front of him into a large, snake-like face. He was tripping, falling into its open mouth._

_**WHY WASN'T IT YOU?**_

* * *

Harry woke up just as he hit the floor. He upended his cot, banging his knee on the frame and his head on the wall. Ron was standing over him, his reaching out as if he had just fallen out of their grasp.

"Bloody hell, Harry! Are you alright?"

Harry looked up to see Ron's concerned face. His friend's red hair clashed horribly with the orange walls of the room behind him. _Oh yeah, that's where I am,_ Harry thought dully, head throbbing. Before he could reply, the door flew open, catching Ron and throwing him into the nearest wall. Ron fell on top of Harry, and at that moment Harry could have sworn his friend was comprised of nothing but knees and elbows. Bill's face appeared from behind the door, followed closely by Hermione and Ginny.

"Blimey Ron, sorry! Sorry, Harry!" Bill said, as he tried to pull his brother out of the mess.

"Are you two alright?" Hermione asked.

"Bloody great!" Harry grunted from the bottom of the pile. Ron was a lot heavier than he would have expected.

Bill and the girls managed to pull Ron upright, leaving Harry free to climb back on his cot. "Really sorry about that," Bill said with a grin. He sobered quickly. "We heard yelling. Are you both okay?"

"Harry was thrashing around in his sleep!" Ron exclaimed.

"It was just a nightmare," Harry muttered darkly.

"Yeah bloody right it was just a bloody nightmare! I reckon you were fighting Riddle all over again, mate." The four of them looked at Harry apprehensively.

"Just leave it!" He snapped at them. The flinched, and seeing their expressions he forced himself to calm down. "It was just a nightmare. That's not exactly new territory for me, you know?"

Bill relaxed. "Yeah, alright," he said, stepping out of the room. "I'll leave it to you three. Sorry again, Harry."

Hermione murmured an apology and headed back downstairs to Ginny's room. Ron sat back down on his bed. Ginny just stood there for a moment, looking at Harry, before turning to leave. Harry fell back on his cot with a sigh.

"Sorry, mate," Ron said quietly. "You just didn't wake up right away. I was worried, you know?"

"Yeah, sure."

Ron sighed, and made to leave. "You slept more than I did, anyway. I was coming up to tell you, Fleur says dinner is almost ready." He paused for a second. "See you downstairs, alright?"

Harry tried to say he wouldn't make it downstairs for dinner. "Alright."

Ron left, and Harry remained on the cot, watching the light splayed across the bedroom wall. As the moments passed he returned bit by bit from the dream. He was in Ron's room at the Burrow, and it was the evening of the same day. The setting sun hit the stark Chudley Cannons hue of Ron's walls and turned them a burnt orange, almost a russet color at points. It was strangely beautiful.

Slowly, the spectrum of reds, browns and oranges pulled him out of the deep malaise from the nightmare. He couldn't fully shed his heart's disquiet, but the heaviness became bearable, at least for a little while. What had earlier seemed impossible now seemed merely difficult. His stomach rumbled and he sighed, pulled himself upright, and step by step made his way down to the Burrow's kitchen.

He paused on the landing between Bill's and Ginny's rooms, noticing that the latter's door was still shut. Harry took a deep breath and reached up to knock on her door, but lost his nerve. He winced as he descended the last flight of stars and forgot to skip the creaky step. He thought he heard a door open behind him as he entered the kitchen.

Fleur was busy transferring various dishes from the stove to the table, talking to herself in a rapid French. Arthur, Bill, Percy, Ron and Hermione were already seated at the table. As Harry found an open seat, Charlie disappeared up the stairs with two plates full of food, likely for Molly and George who were nowhere to be seen. After the events of the day, everyone seemed to have accepted that neither one would be joining them at the table.

Their absence made Harry feel even more out of place. As Fleur loaded up his plate with food in a way that would have made her mother-in-law proud, Harry tried to prepare a viable excuse that would allow him to take his food to his room. He had just opened his mouth when he heard someone coming down the stairs. Ginny emerged from the stairwell and stared him straight in the eyes as if she knew what he was planning. His resolve faded and he stayed put.

Ginny sat down next to him, apparently purposefully skipping the other available seats. She said nothing to Harry and made other move to acknowledge him, though she gave Fleur a small smile while her plate was being loaded up with food. _She isn't ignoring me, exactly, but why does she have to be so close all the time? _After holding her that morning, they still hadn't spoken. They had both gone upstairs after Arthur and Molly, but they'd separated on the first landing. Whatever thoughts they'd had at the time were left unsaid.

Ginny raised her fork to her mouth and paused, looking him straight in the eyes as she arched an eyebrow. There was a confused moment before Harry realised he had been staring at her since she came downstairs.

He blushed and turned back to his own plate. The meal passed by in silence. Fleur had made a lot of interesting French cuisine and Harry cleaned his plate, but if you asked him afterwards what he had eaten he could not have told you. His mental efforts had all been going towards trying to find the secret to the puzzle that was Ginny Weasley, and why she insisted upon such close proximity and yet said nothing.

_Maybe I can learn Legilimency,_ he thought wryly. _Then at least I could get some answers._

His musings were interrupted when Arthur spoke, and he jumped, flushing once again. By the tinge of red on Ginny's face, he wasn't the only one startled.

"We're going to have the funeral in three day's time," Arthur said in a monotone voice. "Your mother and I don't want to put it off. It's not something we can leave undone." He sounded as if he was trying to keep his voice from cracking.

"Of course not, Dad," Charlie said from across the table, causing Harry to jump again. He hadn't even noticed Charlie had returned. "We... We gotta say goodbye." Charlie wasn't as successful as his father, and Bill reached over to hold his younger brother while tears leaked out of his eyes.

Harry sat there, looking at his empty plate. _Charlie's the last one I saw cry,_ he thought dully. He wondered why that mattered, or if it mattered. He couldn't come up with a reason. He wasn't sure, really, why the thought had occurred to him. Mr. Weasley spoke again, and Harry looked up.

"Harry, Hermione, could you help me with something?"

They followed him into the living room, where he stopped, looking a little lost. He didn't seem to be able to look them in the eye. "I know a bit about Muggle machines, but I figured the two of you..." He trailed off, but Harry couldn't see what he was getting at.

"You thought we could help you remove Fred's hand from the clock," Hermione finished for him, nodding. Arthur tried to give them a smile. "Of course we'll help, right Harry?"

He swallowed. "Right. Of course."

Arthur removed the clock face, but his hands were shaking so badly he almost dropped it. Hermione managed to grab it before he let it fall, and passed it off to Harry, gently telling Mr. Weasley to sit down. Slowly, deliberately Hermione worked on removing the hand, asking Mr. Weasley about the enchantments when necessary and passing parts of the clock to Harry. The work was agonizingly slow.

They managed to remove Fred's hand and pass it to Arthur, and then they reassembled the machinery. Between Arthur's knowledge and Hermione's smarts there wasn't a problem, and he thanked them sincerely before leaving the room. From what Harry had seen, however, it worked nothing like an ordinary clock. He certainly felt he hadn't been any help.

At some point during the process they had drawn a crowd. The Weasley children had watched in reverent silence, broken only by the occasional sniffle.

"It just looks wrong now," said Ron.

"Yeah," said Charlie, his eyes puffy. They all considered the clock in silence again.

"Better than seeing Fred stuck on 'Lost," Bill spoke up pragmatically.

"Well, yeah," agreed Ron.

"But it still looks wrong," Ginny said quietly. They all nodded their agreement, including Harry and Hermione.

They filed one by one back into the kitchen, until it was just Harry and Ginny in the living room. He knew she was looking at him now, but he couldn't look at her. He just kept looking at the clock face, its eight hands all pointing to "Home." He looked at each family member's hand, his guts churning, desperately wishing he could find the right thing to say. He looked at Ginny's face on the hand of the clock, clenching his jaw, still unable to get the words out. She finally turned away.

Harry stifled a sob, fists clenched at his sides, hands shaking. He turned around slowly, knowing he was alone in the room. He took one step toward the kitchen. Then another. And another. He pushed open the door and saw Ginny starting to climb stairs. He sucked in a breath, and then hurried past her, and out the back door.

As crossed the threshold he heard her say, "Harry!" but he didn't stop.

"Let him go, Gin," he heard Ron's muted voice through the door. Harry could feel her eyes on his back, but she didn't follow him.

He crouched at the edge of the pond until the light from the setting sun faded completely. The night chill descended upon Ottery St. Catchpole, and he began to shiver in his t-shirt. The feeling was so like his earlier nightmare that it shook him from his tumultuous thoughts. He stood, and his leg muscles groaned in protest. He turned around to look at the Burrow.

There was no one watching him from the back door. He thought he saw movement in Ginny's window, but he could have imagined it.

* * *

Harry's sleep came with more nightmares, and though they were still fraught with accusing faces he did not remember having the same one twice. He woke up many times during the night, twice to Ron's concerned face and once to find his friend thrashing about, and Harry had leapt up to return the favor. He had jerked awake after his most recent horror, and found he was unable to drift back off to sleep. He lay on his cot, staring at the ceiling as the first rays of pre-dawn light slipped their way into the bedroom.

He was tired. _More like exhausted,_ he thought, _or drained? Spent? I certainly feel spent._ His body ached in that deep, insidious way that seemed to bypass his flesh and sink straight into the bone. He wondered if he would be able to summon the strength to put on his glasses, let alone rise from his cot and get dressed. His skin was covered in dried, sticky sweat, and in his discomfort he had the vague feeling that something was missing. There was some sensation absent in this familiar state of misery, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

Giving it up as a bad job, Harry put his efforts toward more achievable goals. He reached up for his glasses and his shoulder told him, in no uncertain terms, that it did not approve of the situation. He groaned inwardly as his scrabbling fingers initially failed to encounter his prize. When he finally encountered the desired object, he fumbled with the frame and knocked his glasses to the ground underneath his cot. He swore softly. _Youngest Seeker of the century... Great job, Potter._

His rummaging had taken a lot of effort, and in the next moment he only tried to wipe that grimy feeling off of his face, his glasses abandoned on the floor. Shortly the sun crested the horizon, and Ron's bedroom wall alighted with fiery oranges and yellows. It was mesmerizing.

_Morning light seems so much... well, _lighter_ than in the evening,_ Harry mused. _Can one light be heavier than another? Maybe I should ask Hermione..._

His thoughts grew foggier, and he settled back down on his cot. He was still trying to wipe his forehead when he realised, _It was my scar... I had nightmares all night and it never hurt once..._ With that comforting thought, he fell back to sleep.

* * *

Harry woke, showered, and dressed without incident, though it took a moment for him to remember where he'd left his glasses. After a couple of hours of dreamless sleep, he felt functional, if still mostly worn-out. The ache no longer felt quite so deep.

He was surprised to see he was the last to emerge for breakfast, that even Molly and George were present, at least physically. George's demeanor was unchanged and has Harry approached, Molly's disheartened attempts to make him eat were forsaken. She seemed to deflate until she noticed Harry in the doorway.

"Oh, there you are, Harry dear," she said, jumping to her feet and herding him into a chair next to Percy. "I was about to send Ron up to see if you were awake." Harry resisted for a moment before he let himself be mothered. One look at Molly's face had shown how desperately she needed someone to fuss over. She loaded his plate up with a large portion of eggs, bacon, and toast.

"Thanks Mrs. Weasley," he managed. She squeezed his shoulder and moved off to make another pot of tea.

Harry did his best to eat, trying to finish just enough that he could claim he'd had enough while avoiding the inevitable second helping that came with a clean plate. His efforts were in vain, however, and he gave Molly a weak smile as she served him another large portion.

"Best to eat up, you lot," Molly insisted. "You'll need your strength today." They all pretended not to notice how she had to force a smile.

After Molly had successfully forced altogether too much food into the rest of her family (except for George, who simply stared morosely), she chivvied them all back upstairs to change into their dress robes. The day's preparations made for a semblance of normalcy, if one didn't look too closely. Further inspection would reveal a deep sorrow in each person's eyes, and for all the hustle and bustle of a morning at the Burrow, everyone avoided actually having to speak with one another. To Harry's great relief, it wasn't long before the whole family was ready to go, and they were once again lined up to Floo to Hogwarts.

* * *

_Author's Note: Not the most exciting chapter, but at least there weren't as many tears, right? Right? Anyway, I'm doing my best to show all the different sides of grief: The ups and downs, the mood swings and the numbness. These next few chapters will be full of memorials and funerals, so get ready._


	5. Chapter 5 - First Goodbyes

Harry exited the fire to find he was not in Gryffindor Tower, as he had expected. Even more concerning, there was no sign of the Weasleys or Hermione. Instead of the red and gold wall hangings on his House's common room he was greeted by a familiar, circular office and the startled faces of Minerva McGonagall, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and a few other ministry officials. The Headmistress found her voice first.

"Mr. Potter! What are you doing here?" She demanded.

"This is a private meeting, Harry." Kingsley said sternly. A couple of the ministry drones glared at him.

"I–I–Er," Harry stammered.

Dumbledore's portrait came to his rescue. "Minerva, Kingsley," he said, his eyes twinkling, "I don't believe either of you closed the Floo connection after our new Minister's arrival?" Their expressions softened and the both had the decency to look embarrassed, which shocked Harry more than anything. He'd never seen that expression on either of their faces.

Dumbledore continued with a small smile, "As for Harry, here, I'm guessing he didn't intrude intentionally. Tell me, Harry, what did you say when you flooed over?"

It was Harry's turn to look embarrassed. He lowered his eyes and felt the heat rise in his cheeks. "I just said 'Hogwarts," he admitted.

McGonagall waved her hand and fire behind Harry flickered and died, the connection severed. "An interesting oversight in security don't you think, Mr. Robards? Especially when so many people have good reason to be distracted."

The graying man next to Kingsley had not stopped glaring at Harry, but at McGonagall's comment he turned away and nodded at her. "We're lucky he discovered it before someone else did, Professor" he said gruffly.

"Well, no harm done, Mr. Potter. Though perhaps next time a little more care is in order?" the Headmistress admonished him with a wry smile.

On a whim, Harry gave them both a cheeky grin, causing Robards to scowl once more. "I haven't made that mistake since my second year, when I accidentally turned up in Borgin and Burkes," he said.

"I'll take Harry to Gryffindor Tower, Minerva," Kingsley stated, holding up his hand to stop his underlings' protests. "The ceremony should be starting relatively soon, and I'm sure Molly is beside herself with worry. Have one of the portraits let her know we're on our way, so that she doesn't blame Harry, here." McGonagall chuckled, and waved them off.

They descended the spiral staircase in silence, and as they started down the corridor Harry's brain caught up with his ears. "Minister?" he asked.

Kingsley smiled. "Yes, the Wizengamot passed a majority vote yesterday evening," he explained. "Something about 'strength and unity in the wake of battle.' They seem keen to show their faith in us victors."

Harry snorted. "We could have used that faith a couple years ago, when Riddle came back," he said sourly.

Kingsley chuckled, but halted and fixed Harry with a piercing stare. "There's a very important upside to this, you know," he said quietly. Harry cocked an eyebrow. "If we let them give us authority, we can change the Ministry from within. We can make it better, Harry. Just something to think about."

Harry's eyes widened as he caught on. They really could improve things, with Kingsley as Minister. He thought of all the times Fudge and Scrimgeour had approached him, and how they'd always managed to get in his way. What if they'd had a Minister for Magic like Kingsley Shacklebolt? How much better prepared would they have been?

_How many people would still be alive, had the Ministry worked like it was supposed to?_

Something clicked in Harry's mind at that moment. He'd always been furious with the previous ministers for their ability to consistently do the wrong thing. It was made worse, he realised, because he couldn't help but feel there'd have been a lot less dead Muggles had the Ministry heeded his warnings in the first place. It still made him angry, but he was immensely relieved to know those people had not died because of him. It felt like he'd finally relaxed a number of muscles he hadn't known were tense.

Harry sped up to match Kingsley's pace, and the walked the rest of the way to the Fat Lady's portrait in companionable silence. As they neared the portrait hole, Harry spoke up. "Kingsley, you asked me to carve Lupin's name into the memorial, but may I ask who is carving Snape's name?"

"Do you believe Severus Snape should be a part of the memorial?" the Minister asked in surprise. "It's well known he was a Death Eater."

"He carried the Dark Mark," Harry said firmly, "but he wasn't a Death Eater. Not at the end."

Kingsley looked Harry in the eye for a moment, and the nodded and acquiesced, "Very well, Harry Potter. We will remember him as a member of the Order of the Phoenix." His visage relaxed, and he chuckled again. "At this point, you could probably demand Order of Merlins for every house elf in Hogwarts, and the Wizengamot would give it to you. Your word carries a lot of weight, you know."

"I didn't ask for it to," Harry said quietly.

"I know, Harry. And I don't mean to make light of your efforts," Kingsley said solemnly. "See me after the memorial, if you would; we have some things to discuss." Harry nodded and shook the older man's hand, then headed through the portrait hole.

* * *

"It was Knockturn Alley all over again," Ron chortled as they walked across the grounds for the ceremony, and Harry managed to give him a smile. His pensive mood had been interrupted as he had entered the Gryffindor common room. As soon as he crossed the threshold Molly had given him a quick hug and started telling him off for disappearing. She had seemed to be torn between smothering him and scolding him, so she had settled for something in-between, brushing soot off his dress robes while muttering to herself about how hard it was to keep track of him. The rest of the Weasleys had been snickering as she fussed, and Harry had even caught Ginny smiling at him. He'd grinned back at her, heart leaping in hope.

The service was being held down by the Black Lake, where someone had arranged row upon row on chairs for the mourners and spectators to use. Harry was glad to see there was only one photographer, wearing a ministry robe. He'd heard in passing that the Press was being kept outside the gate to Hogsmeade.

The chairs were facing a small stage, upon which sat the large black marble monument. It was elegantly cut, but simple. There was very little ornamentation, just a short message and a space for the names of the fallen. Harry's heart dropped as he remembered there were more than enough names to fill that space. The message read:

In Memory Of Those We Lost

2 May 1998

May Their Sacrifice Be Remembered

"A bit simple, innit?" Ron muttered.

Harry shook his head. "It's perfect." And it was. There was no mention of Voldemort, no mention of Harry Potter. Today's ceremony and this monument were dedicated to the brave people who had fought and died for what the believed was right. Their loved ones needed this day to mourn. For his part, Harry had been horribly afraid this memorial would somehow find its way back to the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One. He would not have been surprised if Kingsley had asked him to speak, something he was really hoping to avoid. Keeping the Press out and keeping Harry Potter out of the spotlight, these two gestures gave him a lot of hope for the new Minister's regime.

Despite Harry's detour his group was among the first to arrive for the ceremony. He scanned the crowd for familiar faces. Of course, the easiest to find was Hagrid, sitting across the aisle-way and off to one side on a specially-made bench, his tablecloth-sized handkerchief already in hand. Not to far from Hagrid sat Dennis Creevey with two people who could only be his parents. They were all fairly small and very grief-stricken. _Robards must have lifted the Muggle-repelling charms for today_, Harry registered. A few rows behind the Creeveys he found the person he was looking for.

He left the Weasleys a moment and headed that way, stopping to squeeze Dennis' shoulder and wave at Hagrid, who gave him a soggy smile. He then approached the tall, sober woman who was sitting alone. Well, not alone, as she was rocking the pram next to her absentmindedly while she watched his approach. She was also not the only person sitting in her row, but somehow the others had left a wide gap on either side. A part of Harry couldn't blame them–she and her late sister looked remarkably alike, and he had quite nearly jinxed her the last time they met.

"Mrs. Tonks? It's Harry," he said nervously, "Er, Harry Potter." He was messing this up. _She knows who you are, you prat._

Andromeda Tonks was a tall, proud woman, and shared many physical characteristics with Bellatrix. They had the same thin lips and dark, heavily lidded eyes. He'd been on the business end of Bellatrix's wand enough, it was no wonder he was nervous.

"I remember you, Harry. How can I help you?" She asked, a little formally.

"Yeah, it's good to see you again. Well, not exactly good, what with the memorial... Er," He felt himself blushing, trying not to put his foot in his mouth.

Andromeda smiled warmly, a mischievous twinkle in her eye, and she looked so much like her daughter that Harry was able to relax. He swallowed and started again.

"I'm really sorry for your loss, Mrs. Tonks," he said earnestly, and she nodded her thanks graciously. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I wanted get a chance to talk to you. About Teddy."

She pulled the pram a few inches closer, seemingly unconsciously, but didn't speak.

"Remus found me at Shell Cottage the night Tonk–Nymphadora gave birth," Harry explained, taking a deep breath. "He asked me to be Teddy's godfather, and well, I want to help. I want to help both of you. Er, would it be alright if I were to come over occasionally to visit?"

Andromeda let out a big sigh, startling him. "Oh, Harry," she breathed, eyes heavy with tears, "that would be wonderful. You are most welcome to come and visit."

Harry released a breath he hadn't realised he was holding in. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

"Do you want to hold him?" She asked suddenly.

"Er, what?"

Before he could protest, she was placing the baby in his arms. Harry was terrified. She showed him how to cradle him and how to support his head. He was so tiny, Harry was sure he would accidentally hurt him. Andromeda fussed over the two of them until she was satisfied, and Harry began to relax when he was reasonably certain he wouldn't drop his godson.

Teddy slumbered peacefully, wrapped up in a blanket with only his head exposed. On top of his head was a thick tuft of turquoise hair. Just watching Teddy sleep, Harry felt warm and peaceful for the first time in what felt like years. He looked up at Andromeda again and found her watching the two of them, her expression serene.

"He started to change hair colors almost as soon as he was born, just like my Dora," she said softly. She then looked up into his face. "Harry... Remus and I had our differences, but it's times like this that I can see he was a much wiser man than I remember to give him credit for. He told that you yelled at him, scolded him for leaving... Seeing you now, it's pretty obvious he made the right choice in asking you to be Teddy's godfather."

Harry blushed furiously, but he was immensely pleased. "Mrs. Tonks,"

"Harry, call me Andromeda."

"Er, okay. Andromeda, would you and Teddy want to come sit with me and the Weasleys? Maybe that way Molly can hold him when they call for Remus and.. and for Dora."

"I'd like that, Harry."

Harry turned his attention back to Teddy as they made their way toward the Weasleys. Molly, Ginny and Hermione stepped up to meet them, the Weasley men a step behind. Even George had stood up for a better look. Ginny was staring at him again, clearly unsure what to say. There was something else behind her hesitation, too. _Longing? _Harry looked around at the rest of them, noting not for the first time that they were the closest thing he had to a family. Was it too much to hope he could actually have a family? He pushed the confusing thoughts from his mind.

"This is my godson, Teddy," he said softly, then added, "and Andromeda Tonks, his grandmother."

"Oh Harry, he's beautiful!" Molly gushed, then looked to Andromeda. "May I, Mrs...?"

"Call me Andromeda, dear, and of course you may."

Harry passed Teddy off to Molly, who looked positively delighted. For the first time in days the Weasley matriarch seemed to come alive. He wasn't the only one to notice, either. Arthur gave Harry a truly thankful smile and reached over to squeeze his shoulder before stepping up next to his wife.

* * *

Later on, Harry could not decide whether the ceremony had passed quickly or slowly. He remembered listening to Kingsley's speech, but he had no idea what the new Minister had actually said. He remembered the ceremony's beginning, but seemingly in the next moment the man's deep voice was reading the names of the fallen, and families waited for their turn to rise and inscribe their loved one's name on the monument.

He distinctly remembered when Kingsley called "Colin Creevey," and Harry had struggled to find his breath. He'd seen Dennis rise and start walking toward the podium, but then the youngest DA member fell to his knees, sobbing. Harry had started to move, to help him, but George beat him to it. The stocky redhead pulled Dennis to his feet and supported him all the way up to the stage. George had held the younger boy upright while he carved Colin's name into the stone. As they made their way back, Harry could see George's jaw clenched shut, determination written across his face.

Harry's next memory was of Kingsley calling "Nymphadora and Remus Lupin." He had forced himself to his feet, and waited for Andromeda to pass Teddy off to Molly. Andromeda had looked at him, her back straight, her bearing proud, but her eyes full of unshed tears. Harry had offered her his arm, and they walked side by side up the aisle. Once Andromeda was done with her daughter's name, he'd stepped up and slowly, painstakingly carved REMUS JOHN LUPIN into the marble with his wand. Each letter had felt like a knife in his heart, and as had he returned to his seat he knew he was openly weeping. Ron had pulled him into a one-armed hug, and Hermione had reached over to squeeze his knee.

A little later, Kingsley had called "Severus Snape," and whispers had spread through the respectfully silent gathering like fire. Harry remembered standing, making the journey again and carving SEVERUS SNAPE, his eyes dry. The whispers had quieted by the time he was seated, and the solemnity of the occasion resumed.

Of all of the names he remembered, for Harry the next was the hardest. Even knowing it was coming, hearing Kingsley's low voice say the name, "Fred Weasley" had felt like a blow to the chest. More than one Weasley had burst into tears, and they all rose slowly. Charlie and Percy had flanked George, nearly carrying him to the stage. Molly was leaning on Arthur heavily, and Ginny supported her mother from the other side. Hermione had taken Ron's hand and pulled him up, and they walked together, their fingers intertwined. As Fleur had started to pull Bill away, he stopped and turned back to Harry, who was still seated. He tugged on Harry's shoulder.

"C'mon, mate," Bill had said. "All of us, remember? The whole family."

Harry had looked up into Bill's scarred face and let himself be pulled to the front one last time. Ron had put his arm around Harry's shoulders from the other side. He had stood between the two tallest Weasley sons, feeling like an intruder, feeling like he didn't belong. But as he watched George shakily pull out his wand, and Charlie and Percy had helped their brother steady his hand and carve their missing brother's name, he'd finally understood one very simple and very important fact: They were telling him it was okay. They were telling him he was allowed to miss Fred too.

* * *

_Author's Note: And here we are with more sadness! Chocolate all around. I love writing about Teddy though._


	6. Chapter 6 - Decisions

The ceremony ended quickly and in an unspectacular fashion. The monument was set by the lakeside, and the Minister had asked for silence. The occasional sniffle broke the quiet, but after the two minutes of contemplation had passed Kingsley solemnly thanked everyone for their attendance and invited them back to the castle for a meal. The crowd broke off in small groups, some were holding soft conversations but others continued in mute grief.

Andromeda turned to the rest of the group. "Well, I really should get going. Little Teddy here is bound to wake any minute," she started, and almost on cue the baby boy screwed up his face and started wailing. The sound was deafening after the quiet of the ceremony, and it took a moment for them to get him settled down. When he was finally back in his pram, Andromeda gave a tired sigh. "Some days I can't decide if I'm too old to raise a baby or too young to be a grandmother," she said, but there was a twinkle in her eye that took the edge off her words.

"Nonsense, you're doing wonderfully Andromeda," Molly soothed. "Do come by some day this week for dinner. I insist."

Andromeda gave her a grateful smile. "Thank you, Molly, and thank you for helping to look after Teddy today, as well. Harry," she said, turning to look at him, "would you like to come visit us this Saturday? I need to start with Dora and Remus' arrangements, and your presence would be a welcome reprieve."

"I'd love to," he said quietly. "I'll see you then."

Much to Harry's surprise, the stately woman gave him a quick hug before heading off, pushing along Teddy's pram. The Weasleys started made to follow, but Kingsley intercepted Harry before he could join them. Harry thought it was lucky, as had completely forgotten the man's request.

"I just need to borrow Harry a moment, Molly," Kingsley assured the lingering redheads. As the family walked back to the castle, the Minister took Harry's arm and guided him back to a patch of grass near the monument. "Just a few things to discuss, Harry. But first let's find Professor McGonagall."

The Headmistress was in a conversation with a family Harry didn't recognise, but Kingsley caught her eye and she indicated she would join them shortly. The Minister nodded at her and turned to look out over the lake. Harry followed him.

"For the moment, we can discuss the arrangement for Professor Snape," Kingsley said, staring into the distance. "We were unable to find next-of-kin, but we did discover that his parents, Tobias and Eileen Snape, are buried in Cokeworth. We had originally been planning to bury him next to Professor Dumbledore, but the idea has met with plenty of resistance. I don't expect many of the Hogwarts students will remember him fondly, either," He turned to look at Harry again. "We are still in the process of commissioning a portrait for the Headmistress' office, so we cannot ask Snape himself. With no one to claim him, I offer you the decision of where he will be laid to rest. You have mentioned the he loved your mother, though I find it hard to believe Severus would be keen on Godric's Hollow."

Harry matched the older man's wry grin, "Yeah, I doubt my dad would be happy, either." Harry thought for a while before saying, "And what if I refuse the offer?"

"Then the Ministry will take control of his funds and estate, and he will be buried alongside his mother."

Harry nodded, and made his choice. "Bury him here," he said quietly. "Give him a small stone next to Professor Dumbledore's tomb. He defied Riddle as much as any of us."

Kingsley sighed. "Very well, it will be done. Though it won't be a popular decision. Do you have any requests for what to do with his assets?"

He thought for a moment. "Can we sell the house and donate everything to the Hogwarts student fund?"

Kingsley brightened considerably. "That's an excellent idea, Harry," the man said, "and it should placate the dissenters nicely. Well done!"

"Mr. Potter, Minister, we seem to be meeting fairly regularly," came McGonagall's voice, and Harry turned toward her as she joined them.

Harry took a moment to really look at the witch and the wizard who stood before him. McGonagall looked as composed as ever, but there was a slight redness around her eyes that betrayed her sorrow and loss. Kingsley was stood equally straight, his demeanor resolute, but Harry could see the toll of the past few days weighed heavily on the man's shoulders. He felt a stirring of kinship with the two of them, despite their differences in age. These two people had not only fought alongside him in the Battle, but they had also endured the same demands on their time in the aftermath.

"Thank you, Headmistress," Kingsley began, "This will not take long–"

"Pish-posh, Kingsley. No need for formalities," she said kindly. "Now, what did you wish to discuss with Mr. Potter?"

Kingsley cleared his throat and looked between the two of them. "Since Hogwarts has been cleared for reopening, I wanted to speak with both of you," he explained. "I know it has only been a couple of days, Harry, but have you given any thought to your future?"

Harry's breath caught and he felt his eyes widen. "Er... Well, no," he managed to stammer out, "not really. That is.." He paused for breath, trying to sort out his thoughts. "Honestly, two days ago I wasn't sure I was going to have a future."

The man's dark eyes softened. "It's okay," Kingsley soothed, "I'm not asking you to decide now. I do, however want to give you some options to consider. Am I right in believing that Harry would be invited to complete his seventh year at Hogwarts, Minerva?"

"Of course," McGonagall answered immediately, meeting Kingsley's gaze. "Potter is an exemplary student and a credit to this school, Minister." She then looked at Harry and gave him one of her signature smiles, "Should he choose to return, he certainly will not be held in contempt for his absence these past two terms. They would be filed under, shall we say, extenuating circumstances? After all, I did make a promise to do everything within my power to help this young man become an Auror."

Harry grinned at her, but grew pensive as he considered her words. "What do you mean, 'should I choose to return,' Professor?"

Kingsley answered for her. "It is that exact subject I want you to consider, Harry," he said. "You have done more than your share in the past several years, but I can quite frankly say the Ministry is in shambles at the moment. We need help and if you're willing, well, I'm quite sure we could overlook a lack of N.E.W.T.s and enroll you directly in the Auror programme."

Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows and Harry couldn't help but agree. He could be an Auror as soon as he wanted! _It _would_ seem a little redundant to for them to ask for my qualifications,_ he thought dryly.

Kingsley continued without waiting for him to reply. "Again, I'm not asking you to make this decision now. I believe we would benefit greatly from your help, but the Auror office will still be there in a years' time should you decide to return to school. I will, of course, also be making this offer to three of your friends; Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, and Mr. Longbottom. All of you are of age and have more than proven yourselves. Any other students who fought in the Battle would only need to submit their name for consideration, as well," he added with a smile.

Harry's mind was in chaos. It was a lot of information to take in. Before he could even being to formulate a reply, however, Headmistress spoke up.

"Take your time, Harry," she said gently, looking him straight in the eye. "We do not ask you to make up your mind quickly or to take this decision lightly. You have more than earned some time to rest. The world has asked far too much of you, over the last year especially. Whether you choose to return to Hogwarts, join the Aurors, or even take a year for yourself, I want you to know that we are all very grateful. As your Head of House, I am incredibly proud of you, Harry. No one will think any less of you, whatever you decide."

Harry swallowed, and had to blink back tears before he responded. "Thank you, Professor," he choked out. Clearing his throat, he snorted and added, "Though I doubt I could stand doing nothing for a whole year."

Professor McGongall chuckled, and Kingsley gave a small smile before moving the conversation on. "Only two more things to think about, Harry, I promise," he said. "First, and tied to the last subject, Minerva and I have agreed that regardless of whether you are at school or with the Ministry, we would be happy for you to continue your work with the DA's weekly sessions."

"What does the DA have to do with anything?" Harry asked.

"Your 'study group' proved to be incredibly well-prepared," Kingsley said seriously. "Professor McGongall has already given permission to make it an official school club, and we figured we would ask you to remain as its primary instructor. Either way, you will be working with the new Defense instructor, whoever that will prove to be."

"You can refuse, of course," McGongall interjected, "but from what Mr. Longbottom and Miss Weasley told me, you were an excellent teacher. You may consider joining Hogwarts as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in the future."

"Only one last thing," Kingsley said quickly, putting a steadying hand on Harry's shoulder. He was correct in seeing that Harry was nearly overwhelmed, "We are beginning the interrogations of the surviving Death Eaters, and we need accurate accounts of their various crimes. We need you to stand witness in their trials, or at least provide written testimony. Before you leave today I will give you an official list of the accused. You may also provide us with more names, if you find we've missed anyone. This is the only request I cannot allow you to reject, I'm afraid. Your input will undoubtedly be essential to these trials."

Harry grimaced at Kingsley, but nodded determinedly. The rest of the conversation had made his head whirl, but this list sounded like something he could do, something he _needed_ to do.

* * *

Harry once again walked back to the castle with Kingsley and Professor McGonagall in silence. Unlike last time, Harry was feeling neither upbeat nor peaceful. _Its hard to believe that was little more than a day ago, _he marveled. So much had happened in the past twenty four hours.

Between the two of them, the new Minister and Headmistress had given Harry a lot to think about. His brain seemed fit to burst with all of the decisions he was supposed to make. In some ways, though, their conversation had helped. While there was way too much information for him to process, he had unconsciously began to separate the decisions into different groups, filing them away for further consideration.

Kingsley seemed to pick up on Harry's mood. "I'm sorry to burden you with so many things, my young friend," he said quietly. "Ever since I became Minister, t seems like I'm being asked to be in multiple places at once as well. Go back to the Weasleys, Harry, and take some time with your thoughts. I'll make sure you receive the list I mentioned. Also, send me an owl later to tell me when you will be available to attend Snape's funeral."

Harry gave him a grateful nod. There was so much on his mind, he had already almost forgotten his decision about the former Potions Master. _It'll be a miracle if I remember everything_, he thought, and snorted softly. At this rate he'd have to ask Hermione to help him make a list.

Once Harry rejoined the Weasleys lunch seemed to go by incredibly quickly. His conversation outside had felt so long that he was surprised to see the family was largely in the same mood as before. The most noticeable difference was Molly, who seemed to have perked up a bit upon meeting Andromeda and Teddy. She still didn't seem quite back to normal, but she was definitely less despondent.

Ron looked up at him and opened his mouth to ask what Kingsley had wanted, but Harry silenced him with a shake of his head. 'Later,' he mouthed, and was grateful when Ron simply nodded. Harry hardly knew how he felt about the whole situation, and he certainly didn't want to try to make sense of it all in front of everyone.

Before he knew it Harry was again stepping out of the fireplace at the Burrow. They'd been doing a lot of Floo travel, and he was reminded not for the first time that it was not his favorite means of transportation. He wasn't much more fond of apparating, though after doing so much of it the past year he decided he did prefer it to hurtling through fireplaces. _I should probably get my license,_ he realised suddenly, _we didn't have a chance before, and once Riddle took over the Ministry I couldn't very well have simply made an appointment. _He chuckled at the thought.

Once everyone had arrived, the Weasleys quietly separated off to do different things. Charlie and Ron helped George back up to his room and provided a fresh silencing charm. Bill and Fleur made their way up to Bill's room on the first landing. Arthur said something about checking in with the Ministry, and Percy decided to accompany him, likely to verify whether or not he still had a job. Molly swept into the kitchen, Hermione and Ginny in her wake. Ginny, however, paused in the doorjamb and momentarily fixed Harry with a hard stare, once again tying his stomach in knots.

Harry sighed and plopped down on the sofa, pulling out the sheet of parchment that one of Kingsley's numerous secretaries left with him. The parchment listed every known Death Eater, Snatcher, or known associate of Lord Voldemort, as well as whether or not they were deceased, unaccounted for, or captured. The list came with instructions on how to indicate whether he was willing to provide written or verbal testimony, along with a short section on submitting additional names for investigation. It seemed simple enough, and Harry started his work.

Harry quickly found he was unable to focus for a couple of reasons. For one, if he was to provide eyewitness testimony of the crimes of the accused, he had to be sure it would be reliable. Unfortunately, this meant he had to scan back through his memories and determine whether or not he had actually seen these things happen. What he hadn't realised when he started was that doing it for each individual name meant he was subjecting himself to reliving some of the worst moments of his life over and over.

The second problem was that after trying to recall the horrors he had been subjected to a few times, his subconscious started trying to distract him. Equally annoying was how each time he tried to focus on a memory, the only images that popped into his mind were the wary, accusing stares he'd gotten from Ginny over the past couple of days. He wasn't sure how many hours he had sat there trying to work, but he could tell the afternoon light was beginning to wane, and his head was throbbing.

_Why can't I get her out of my head?_ he groaned inwardly, _Why can't she leave me alone? She's always there, nearly every time I turn around, and my heart tries to leap out of my chest just before sinking into my stomach. It's enough to drive a bloke mad._ The words on the parchment blurred and he dropped his quill before leaning back and closing his eyes.

_Why won't she say anything? Why can't _I_ say anything? We just stand there, staring, and every time I try to open my mouth I get so scared and so bloody angry... I wish she'd just tell me to leave, _he thought wearily. _I wish she'd just get it over with so that I can stop wanting to kiss her, so that I can stop feeling guilty about wanting to kiss her._

He was certain she would eventually tell him to leave. He had dated her for two blissful weeks, broken up with her, supposedly to protect her, and then jumped into her arms last July. And then he had disappeared for nearly the entire year. The next time he'd seen her was at the Battle, where her family had suffered a terrible loss. He wasn't sure how she could stand to be in the same room as him. He opened his eyes lazily, the room out of focus. _And yet I can still picture her, just standing there the doorway again._

Harry focused his eyes, and froze. It wasn't his imagination. She was actually standing in the doorway.

Some switch when off in his brain, and all of the sudden it was too much to take. He jumped to his feet, his jaw tight, his clenched fists shaking. He strode directly towards her, unsure if he wanted to scream at her or snog her senseless. He caught himself in time, pulled his eyes from her startled face and altered his course just before he would have ended up right in front of her. He swept past her and through the kitchen. He heard Hermione gasp and Molly say his name, but then he was out the back door.

Harry stalked over to the pond, ignoring the sound of the door opening again, and screamed.

He poured his rage, his fear, and his guilt into that one wordless, throat-tearing scream. His scream shattered the evening's silence, echoing through the orchard and across the fields. A startled flock of birds erupted from a distant pond, squawking their protests comically.

"Harry?" Ginny said uncertainly, and he rounded on her.

"WHAT, GINNY?" He shouted, and she flinched, but he hardly noticed. "WHAT? WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME? WHY WON'T YOU LEAVE ME ALONE?" With each word, Harry saw her eyes harden, and she set her jaw determinedly, but he continued to vent his frustrations.

"YOU JUST STAND AT A DISTANCE AND STARE, AND YOU SAY NOTHING! YOU CAN BARELY LOOK AT ME! I CAN SEE YOUR PAIN AND YOUR ANGER, BUT YOU WON'T COME OUT AND SAY IT! SO JUST SAY IT–" Harry's voice cracked, and his throat tightened up. He retched, but he forced himself to continue in a strangled voice, "So just say it, Gin. Because I know... and I can't stand to see you trying to pretend otherwise. You wish he was here and... And it should have been me..."

"Don't you say that."

Ginny was shaking her head, eyes shining, "Don't you ever say that," she hissed at him, catching her stride. "Harry James Potter, don't you ever say that! You think I'd trade your life for his?" There was a hysterical edge to her voice. "Do you think I'd swap you out, like your life is somehow worth less? Harry, how many times have the lot of us stood side by side and stared death in face? Watching Hagrid approach, your limp body in his arms... Thinking you were dead nearly tore me apart! And you think I'd rather that than, than..." She wiped the offending tears from her eyes and glared at him. She continued in a monotone, accusing voice. "I wouldn't rather have one of you over the other. I loved Fred. We all loved Fred. But Fred died, and at some point you have to listen to us and stop blaming yourself. There's not some kind of balance, you prat."

Harry was speechless. Her words had cut into him like hot knives, carrying the weight and the truth that it seemed only Ginny could make him understand so directly. He felt the reality of what she was saying penetrate his psyche painfully. She was right: he'd been using his guilt to shield himself from his grief.

She had managed to shatter his defenses, and he stood before her bare, tears flowing freely. It was in this vulnerable state that he found he was finally able to confront the fears he had refused to admit he was carrying for so long. "So you're not... mad?" he said fearfully.

"Mad at you?" Ginny said breathlessly. She inhaled deeply, and then exploded. "HARRY, I'M BLOODY FURIOUS WITH YOU! YOU LEFT ME! YOU DISAPPEARED TO MERLIN KNOWS WHERE AND PUT YOURSELF IN ALL SORTS OF DANGER!" she screamed, pausing only to suck in air, "AND I HAD NO IDEA WHERE YOU WERE, OR IF YOU WERE EVEN ALIVE! I SPENT NIGHT AFTER NIGHT, HOPING AGAINST HOPE TO HEAR SOME SHRED OF NEWS AND WEEPING WITH JOY EVERY TIME YOU DIDN'T TURN UP DEAD! AND THEN YOU BLOODY TURN UP OUT OF NOWHERE AT HOGWARTS AND I DON'T EVEN GET THE CHANCE... AND YOU DISAPPEAR, AND I'M BLOODY TERRIFIED AGAIN..."

Ginny started shaking, her breath coming in wet gasps. Harry took a stop toward her, but she didn't let him interrupt. "And then you were dead, and my brain stopped working... And I was fighting, and I no longer cared if we all died, I just wanted them to feel some measure of the pain I was feeling... and I heard Hagrid calling your name but I just couldn't bear to hope..." He pulled her into his arms, unable to soothe her, unable to do more than simply hold her tightly. She cried into his shoulder, and he rubbed her back absently.

Then, suddenly, she fisted her hands in his shirt and pushed him out to arm's length, yelling again. "And now you're here! You're here and alive, but you won't bloody look at me and you won't touch me! A couple of times I thought... but you keep disappearing! And you're walking around like a ghost and we can all tell you're blaming yourself, but we need you Harry!_ I_ need you! We lost Fred and I need..." she heaved a sob and lowered her voice. "You need us, too, Harry... And if you don't want me, well, I'll leave you be... but you need your family," she said, releasing her grip, her eyes downcast.

Harry could only stare at her, and she sniffed for a while before meeting his gaze timidly. She looked so broken and scared, and her admission made his heart ache in an altogether different manner. It was an swollen feeling he had started to worry he would never experience again.

He looked into her chocolate brown eyes and shook his head mutely. "Ginny," he finally managed, "I never want you to leave."

She buried her face in his shirt again and he held her, this time gently. He sat down in the grass by the pond and pulled her into his lap, rocking her softly and whispering nonsense into her hair. The rest of the Burrow had watched from the windows, but as the sun slipped below the trees, neither of them spared a thought for anyone but each other.

* * *

_Author's Note: This chapter was bloody exhausting. For some, this reconciliation might seem early, but I honestly find it hard to believe it would take more than two days for Harry and Ginny to come to a head. (Also, shouting is stylistically problematic, but here we are.) I never understood why Rowling didn't have them speak after the battle. But then, she's the genius, not me.  
_

_On another note, I'm not sure I'm any better at writing romance than Jo is, so hopefully any stabs I take won't be utter failures. Anyway, there's a lot of emotion packed into this one, but we're not out of the woods yet, folks._


	7. Chapter 7 - A First Step

For the second day in a row, Harry found himself watching the sun set over the hills and fields behind the Burrow. He again wondered how the day as a whole could have passed by so quickly, when each moment was so excruciatingly long. He took a long breath, and reveled in Ginny's unique flowery scent. So much had happened that day; it seemed impossible that only twenty-four hours ago the silence between them had felt like an insurmountable chasm. That silence had been shattered, and in the wake of her tears a companionable quiet had emerged.

Ginny had stopped crying but had not pulled her face out of the crook of his neck. He could hardly believe she was there, in his arms. The creature in his chest hummed contentedly. Harry wanted to express how relieved he was that she could even look at him, let alone touch him, but he couldn't even begin to form the words. He forced down his anxiety, reminding himself there was no reason to rush, no deadline. _I wonder when I'll stop feeling like my time is about to run out_, he thought.

It was a few more minutes before Ginny extracted herself from his lap, his soft grunts of protest unheeded. Truthfully his leg had fallen asleep, but he would never admit that; it was worth putting up with to keep her there with him. To his relief she did not let go of his hand, but plopped down beside him and leaned in to his dry shoulder. She let out a small sigh, and broke the silence.

"Harry?" she said softly.

"Mmm?"

"I'm glad we're talking again."

"Me too, Ginny," he breathed. "Me too." There was a pause as they relaxed into each other again.

"I'm sorry I yelled," she said, her eyes flicking up to his face and back down nervously. "I mean, I'm sorry I yelled at you the other night."

Harry swapped hands so he could put his arm around her and pull her in closer. "I'm not," he snorted, and she gave him an odd look. "I should have known that sooner or later you'd kick my arse back into shape. You always seem to be the one to do that."

Ginny squeezed his hand and they both looked out over the pond. The heavy dusk rays were lethargically giving way to the blanket of night. He barely heard her whispered response, "You'd better believe it, Potter."

They resumed their comfortable lull in conversation, the clamor of the bullfrogs and crickets somehow adding to Harry's feeling of peace. There were still many questions in his mind, but he knew he'd be able to express them in time. There was one concern, however, that he needed to get off his chest.

"Gin?" he said and paused, looking for the right words.

"Mmm?" she murmured, unconsciously mimicking his earlier reply.

_Do you want to be my...? Are we still...? Did what you say mean...?_ He couldn't find the right way to approach the question properly. He grunted in frustration.

She squeezed his hand, and suddenly turned her head to look him in the eyes. She broke contact a second before looking back up at him coyly. "Did you meet any Veela in your travels, Mr. Potter?" she asked him softly, the break in her voice belied her uncertainty.

For a moment he could only stare into her soft brown eyes. The little flecks of gold in them just barely caught the light from the Burrow. It was mesmerizing. His sluggishly brain processed her question and he gave himself a mental shake.

"No," he finally choked out. "No Veela. Besides, I doubt they would have been impressed by the tent I pitched," he added ruefully, thinking about the sad state of Perkins' old tent they had borrowed.

For a minute Ginny just stared at him, her expression unreadable, her face reddening. _What did I say wrong? _He sat there nervously, trying not to flinch in anticipation of her explosion. Abruptly she let out a loud guffaw, breaking into a fit of giggles. It was then that Harry realized exactly what he had just said, and he felt his face heating up. He tried to melt into the ground as she failed to contain her mirth.

"I didn't mean..." he tried to explain, "That's not what..." But she was not to be deterred. It was a while before she calmed down, and then for only a moment. She looked up at him, not quite meeting his eyes.

"Tell me about this tent," she said in a sultry voice, and once again broke out laughing. Harry's whole face was hot, and he had no choice but to wait for her giggling fit to subside.

"Well what about you?" Harry asked quickly after she finally quieted. As much as he was afraid to hear her answer, he had to know. "Any new..."

"No," she broke in firmly. "There's no one else." He tried his best to contain his relief.

"And anyway, I was too busy with... with the Carrows," she continued bitterly, her mirth quickly forgotten.

Harry cringed inwardly, remembering what Neville had said when they met him in the Hog's Head. _"We're supposed to practice the Cruciatus Curse on people who've earned detentions...They don't want to spill too much pure blood, so they'll torture us a bit if we're mouthy but they won't actually kill us." _Ginny used the same matter-of-fact tone that Neville had. It had tied his stomach into knots to hear his friend's offhand description of the Death Eater's brutal methods. From Ginny, it was heartbreaking.

After a moment, Harry regained his voice. "Do you... Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," she said, shaking her head.

"Ginny..."

"No, Harry," she said sharply, and he winced. She gave his hand a squeeze and snuggled in closer. "Not yet. Maybe... but not yet."

"Okay."

After a short pause she pulled her head off his shoulder again. "And you're going to tell me about what you did too, right?" she said with a fierce look in her eye.

Harry stiffened, but underneath her stern glare he could see the concern and the hurt that threatened to overwhelm her. "Of course," he relented, and she visibly relaxed.

"But not yet?" she asked.

"No, not yet."

"I guess that's fair," she said, putting on a slight pout and turning away. She exhaled sharply, "but Potter, if we're going to be together again, you'd better believe I'm not going to put up with your 'noble hero' bollocks."

He gaped at her. "You... you... _what?"_

She turned to face him again. "You heard me," she said, her lips were quivering but her tone was steady and accusing. "You never get to pull that shite again, Harry Potter. No more leaving me in order to protect me. You couldn't take me this year because of the Trace, but in a couple of months I'm of age."

Her voice was picking up heat. "And in the Room of Requirement..." she took a breath. "Never again, you hear me? I will not sit quietly while you and everyone else I love risks their life!"

Harry was dumbfounded. Ginny seemed to have no idea how quickly she'd glossed over his biggest fear. After all he had put her through, she just offhandedly assumed they would be getting back together. His mouth moved soundlessly. He had already been reeling from her first assertion, and her newest attack had rendered him speechless.

"Never again, you hear me?" she insisted in a quieter voice.

"I hear you," Harry said at last, and she subsided. He paused anxiously. He had to be sure. "If we're going to be together...?"

Her eyes widened and shone with tears. "You don't...?" she asked softly.

"No!" he said quickly, "I mean, yes! I mean, I do!" He swallowed, forcing himself to calm down so he could resume speaking in full sentences. "I want that more than anything, Ginny."

Ginny's shoulders quite literally sagged with relief, and he grunted as she fell across his lap. "Oh thank Merlin!" she exclaimed. "I was so worried that you wouldn't... that you..."

Harry nodded his agreement. "Me too," he managed, the tightness in his chest slightly alleviated. He chuckled at the sight of her splayed across his legs, and they once again locked eyes. He unconsciously licked his lips, leaning in hesitantly to give her a kiss.

"Harry," she said quietly, and he stopped, his face inches from hers. The creature in his chest growled its protest. Her eyes darted away for a second and she chewed on her lip apprehensively.

"What's wrong?"

"I... Can–Can we take it slow?" she asked, pulling herself off of his lap in order to sit across from him. "I just... You were gone so long, and..."

Harry lowered his eyes. "And I messed you around," he said quietly. "Yeah, it's okay Ginny. I understand."

"Oh Harry," she sighed, touching his cheek, "it's not that. You didn't mess me around. I knew what was happening. I just didn't know where... and I wish I could have been with you."

Harry flopped backwards onto the grass."Yeah," he said. _I wanted you there too, _he added silently. J_ust not, you know, actually with us. Not in danger._

She gave him an inquiring look, as if she could sense his thoughts, but she didn't say anything. She lay next to him in the dewy grass and for a while they resumed watching the stars, unspeaking. As much as he wanted to pull her into his arms again, he held back. In all honesty he couldn't blame her for her reservedness. He was still disbelievingly ecstatic that she still wanted him at all.

It wasn't that he didn't want to tell her about the past year. She deserved to know, after all, what it was he had left her behind to do. But therein was the problem: What he, Ron and Hermione had been doing was incredibly dangerous, and he wasn't sure he was ready to relive the events of the past year. He also didn't know how to tell her about Ron's leaving... or Malfoy Manor... or the last Horcrux. Realising the scope of his tale and the depth of its unpleasantness, he was glad she seemed to understand his reticence.

Harry was so distracted by his thoughts that he didn't notice Ginny's movement until a curtain of red blocked his vision. He had only a moment to register her bright eyes and a mischievous smile, and then his mind went blank. Her mouth had met his hungrily, and then there was only sensation. His moan was muffled against her lips. Her tongue scraped across his teeth, demanding entry, and then fireworks went off behind his eyelids. He reached up to thread his fingers through her hair.

But then she was gone, deftly evading his grasping hands and giggling. He growled at her retreating form and she responded by sticking her tongue out at him.

"Come on, lazy bones!" she called. "Get up off the wet grass. Mum will flip if you so much as catch a cold."

He grumbled as she pulled him to his feet. "What about taking it slow?"

"A girl's gotta have some glaring contradictions in her life," she said impishly, flashing him another grin. "Besides, I've not been very good about following the rules this year."

She took his hand and pulled him back toward the Burrow, and Harry really smiled for the second time since the Battle. He was more than alright with letting her set the pace of their miraculously rekindled relationship. They still had a lot to do and a lot to talk about, but he couldn't help but think he could take on anything with Ginny at his side.

* * *

As Harry allowed himself to be led back into the kitchen, the first thing he noticed was that the Burrow's subdued atmosphere had not changed since he had left. The tension was so thick it was jarring, and for a moment he was struck with an intense desire to run away, to flee this house and its' occupants, to return to the peace of the paddock. His feelings of guilt rose with a vengeance. He didn't know how long they had been gone, but he was all too aware that he and Ginny had been teasing, cuddling, and even briefly snogging while the rest of the family continued mourning. She squeezed his hand tightly, urging him to relax, and he did his best to fight down his panic.

The second thing Harry noticed was that almost the entire family was waiting for them. It was certainly past time for dinner, but Molly was bustling around the kitchen making a variety assuredly unnecessary dishes. Hermione and Fleur, who were last seen hovering around the Weasley matriarch, had likely been firmly chastised as they were now sitting at the table next to Ron and Bill. Arthur and Percy had not yet returned from the Ministry. George was expectedly absent, but Charlie's presence hopefully indicated that his brother was sleeping.

The door shut loudly behind Harry and Ginny, making everyone jump and drawing their attention to the new arrivals. The hushed conversation died suddenly, and Harry tried not to cringe as he felt the weight of the family's gazes settle on the pair of them. He was very conscious of his palm sweating in Ginny's tenacious hold, and the light in her eyes as she stared defiantly at her brothers.

"Bloody hell, she talked him 'round," Charlie breathed, breaking the silence. "I thought they'd be dancing around each other for couple more days, at least."

"Charles Weasley! Language!" Molly said exasperatedly as the rest of the room's inhabitants chuckled. She then turned away and gave the two of them a tired, but warm smile. "I'm glad you were able to talk some things out, dears. Now sit down and have something to eat."

Ginny tugged Harry toward a pair of uninhabited chairs and gave Charlie a rude gesture when their mother wasn't looking. Harry hunched down in his seat, unconsciously trying to make himself smaller. He really wanted to ask to be excused from the table, but Ginny's grip on his hand brooked no argument.

The muted conversation started up again, and after a few moments Harry looked around the table hesitantly. Fleur and Hermione were quite nearly beaming at them, and Bill and Charlie looked to be in better spirits than they had been in days. The only exception was Ron, who was apparently unable to decide if he should be smiling or scowling, and ended up looking like he needed a bathroom. His best mate's expression was so absurd, Harry couldn't help but snicker at him, and he was relieved to see Ron sheepishly return his grin. Now Harry really did relax; no matter what they thought of him and Ginny, there was no impending brotherly explosion.

Harry found something about the familiarity of sitting around the Weasleys' kitchen table incredibly comforting. Even in mourning, the Burrow was a place of warmth and love. He had honestly expected they would not want him, and despite his guilt over the loss of Fred, a part of him had selfishly hoped he would be allowed to visit again someday. Against all the odds he was still apparently welcome, and the family was bound and determined to see that he didn't blame himself. After all that had happened since his second year, he was still just as surprised that everyone there seemed to like him. He was both in awe and horribly certain that he didn't deserve it.

Ginny's grip on his hand tightened once more, and he turned to look her in the eyes. Her stare was again determined, but her eyes were full of concern and love. Harry's breath caught and the ache in his heart melted away. How did she always know what he was thinking?

"You got so tense you were nearly vibrating," she whispered, seeing the question in his eyes. He took a breath, then squeezed her hand and gave her a weak smile.

Their moment was interrupted by the fireplace suddenly flaming green, and Percy emerged from under the mantle. He looked more than a little rumpled, and he had an ink stain on the side of his nose, but he was wearing a satisfied smile.

"Hello Mum!" He said tiredly. "Dad will be along shortly. We've both got big news!" Molly gave him a kiss on the cheek and characteristically fussed over him until he was sitting at the table with the rest of them.

"Well Perce, how's the Ministry doing?" Bill asked with a wry smile.

Percy frowned, though whether at the state of the Ministry or how Bill's question diverted his pronouncement, it couldn't be sure.

"Completely in shambles," Percy complained. "I'm amazed someone managed to put together the memorial earlier, you can barely lift a quill before someone comes around with another concern. Which is why the Minister asked me-"

"And how is Kingsley handling the mess?" Charlie interrupted, having caught on to Bill's intent. After all, the whole family know why Percy had gone with Arthur to the Ministry that morning. Percy turned his frown on his second oldest brother, his ears reddening.

"_Minister Shacklebolt_," Percy continued, "seems to be the only one capable of getting anything done. The Ministry is horribly understaffed, what with tracking down all the Death Eaters that escaped from the battle and all of the complications left by Thicknesse's band of cronies, and so, as I was saying, I was asked-"

"So that's why Dad's staying later, d'you reckon?" Ron asked, completely failing to conceal his smile. At his side, Harry could feel Ginny shaking from trying not to laugh, and he was biting the inside of his cheek in order to contain himself as well. Hermione was trying to fix Ron with a stern gaze but it was spoiled by her inability to keep a smile off her face.

Percy's face was completely red, and his lips were pressed into a thin line. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak, but it was surprisingly, Fleur, whose voice broke the silence.

"I 'ope everyzeeng will be alright," she said pensively, "I am surprised you did not offer to 'elp, Percee." She finished with a disapproving look, but at the sight of Percy's shocked face she broke into a fit of giggles.

There was a half-second of disbelieving silence before the table exploded with laughter. Bill managed to look proud of his wife in the middle of wiping away tears. Ginny turned to Harry and mouthed, _Phlegm made a joke?_ Even Percy was chuckling after a minute.

"We'll make a Weasley out of you yet!" Charlie said, fighting for breath.

"_Mais,_ I am a Weasley already, _non?_" Fleur retorted, flashing her wedding ring at him. Before he could respond, she turned to Percy again and gave him a warm smile. "I am sorry, Percee, please tell us your news."

"Thank you, Fleur," Percy said self-importantly and then cleared his throat. "I wanted to share that Minister Shacklebolt has asked me to- Oh for Merlin's sake!" he cried as the fireplace flared again. The green flames spit out Mr. Weasley, who barely managed to keep his feet.

If Percy looked rough, Arthur looked awful. His thinning hair was sticking out in every direction and he looked like he might fall asleep standing up. Molly was immediately ushering him to a chair. "Hello everyone," he said wearily, looking around at all of them individually. He then looked at his son. "Percy, did I interrupt your saying something?"

"Kingsley gave me a job!" Percy shouted over another round of laughter.

"Oh Percy, that's wonderful!" Molly crowed, glaring at the rest of her children.

"Thank you, mother," he said. "though you should know I'm... well I'm the Minister's assistant again."

There was a moment of silence in which everyone was remembering what happened the last time Percy was the Minister's assistant. Ginny broke it.

"Well," she said, "at least this time we like the Minister."

"Yeah, Perce," Charlie piped up, "no one is better at assisting the Minister than you. Just be sure this one doesn't somehow turn out to be a git too, alright?" This earned him chuckles from the rest of the table and another reprimand from the Weasley matriarch.

"Thank you," Percy said somberly, looking around at his family. His eyes settled last on Harry, an unspoken question in the air. Ginny nudged him, and he realised the family was waiting for his response.

Harry swallowed and said at last, "I can't think of anyone better for the job."

The tension in the air decreased, and Ginny let out a small breath. Harry gave her hand a squeeze and thought, _Even if I didn't mean it, I would have done it for you. _She returned his gesture in kind.

Percy gave Harry a genuinely relieved smile. "Thanks, Harry," he said. He then brightened considerably and continued, "Anyway, you should all hear about Father's new promotion."

"Promotion? What promotion?" Molly squeaked from the stove. "Arthur, what is he talking about?"

"Molly," Arthur said, his tired face resolute, "Kingsley made me Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and..." he took a breath, "and I accepted."

There was a stunned silence. Everyone was very aware of the responsibilities Arthur's new position entailed, namely tracking down the remaining Death Eaters. All of the sudden Ginny jumped up and hugged her father.

"Dad, that's great!" Bill burst out.

"Bloody brilliant!" Ron and Charlie chorused.

"That's excellent news, Mr. Weasley!" Hermione said. Harry and Fleur were nodding.

"Oh, _Arthur!"_ Molly cried, tears forming in her eyes as she embraced her husband. Ginny left them together and came back to the table. Molly and Arthur stood there a minute, and through the excited chatter of the Weasley siblings, Harry could have sworn he heard Mr. Weasley quietly speaking to his wife.

"We're going to get them, Molly. I'm going to make sure nothing like this ever happens again. For Fred."

* * *

_Author's Note: Thank you for waiting for my next chapter. This chapter is the product of my two week fight with writer's block. I reviewed and re-reviewed it, though I'm sure I missed something along the line. I hope you enjoyed it. _

_I hope I properly expressed that Harry and Ginny are still facing problems. They are intent on being together again, but there's a lot of healing yet to be done. Also I don't mean to characterize Ginny as fickle, or a tease. I think she really would need some time to trust him not to run off again, and you really can't blame her for wanting to ease back into the relationship. But, come on, she just faced her own death and thought Harry was dead, I'm sure she's having quite a bit of trouble restraining herself from snogging him senseless, and for good reason._

_Also a lot of people gloss over Percy and Harry's dynamic after the war, or just assume Arthur goes back to his previous job. I will be trying my best not to ignore any one character._


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